NCIS
by madame.alexandra
Summary: In this very au finale, Jenny is the girl Gibbs meets in high school - his first love, until some unexpected teenage mistakes change their lives, and the paths they take, forever. Jibbs-oriented; Shannon friendly. 4th and final part in a 4 part series. This part features Gibbs & Jenny confronting their past after 14 years living separate lives with a daughter in common.
1. Run, Daddy Run

_a/n: well, here we go: the final part. lazily titled "NCIS," i hope it's at least marginally satisfying to you!_

* * *

Washington, D.C. and Metro Area: 1999

Run, Daddy Run

* * *

The thing about the east coast was, it had these things called seasons. They weren't always appropriately defined and delineated – for example, some years, crisp Autumn started in September, when it was supposed to, while other years sweaty Summer lingered until late October – but they existed, quite obviously, and the whole concept of actually having to have a diverse wardrobe, because one couldn't wear the same clothes year-round in the expectation of static, perfect mid-California weather, was not a concept Natalie Gibbs was particularly sure she liked – yet.

She'd gotten _used_ to it, maybe, having lived in the nation's capitol for about two years now, but that didn't necessarily mean she liked it. The are-seasons-enjoyable-or-a-hassle question always seemed to pop up in the transition months when the temperature was so unpredictable she couldn't for the life of her decide what to wear, and she dramatically lamented the loss of days when her mother had picked out her clothes for her.

This morning, though, she didn't have the energy for adolescent dramatics; she sacrificed modeling three different outfits for her mirror in favor of an extra half hour of sleep, and then, in modest leggings and a large, maybe-too-heavy sweater, she trudged downstairs to the kitchen of the Georgetown brownstone she now called home and sat down at the little Ikea table with a yawn.

She inhaled deeply.

"Coffee?"

Too awake, and too bright, her mother waved a mug in front of her nose.

"Caf-pow?" Natalie answered hopefully, lifting her chin.

"Coffee," her mother repeated, wiggling the mug a little.

Natalie sighed and took it, eyeing its contents.

"Caf-pow!," she lamented.

She looked up, and her mother's familiar green eyes met hers, narrowing slightly.

"Caf-pows! are terrible for you," she said, predictably.

Natalie had found a place on her route to school that sold the fruity, cold, energy concoction, and she was veritably as addicted to them as her maternal counterpart was to Colombian grounds.

She tilted her head.

"When you come up with an adequate explanation for why your ten cups of coffee a day are healthier than my one single Caf-pow! a day, I'll quit drinking them," Natalie said smartly.

"If that's a bet, I'll take it."

"Oh, you will?"

"I'm sure I could figure out how much caffeine is in a cup of Caf-pow! – and then somehow extrapolate that to see how much is in an average serving of coffee, and then calculate how much you're actually having – "

"You'd have to account for the fact that you drink highly caffeinated blends, and often different coffees from different places, so taking into account variables and outliers would take an extreme amount of effort – "

"But for your health, my darling – "

"—not to mention you're forgetting one key element of your planned coup concerning my caffeine habits."

"And what's that, young lady?"

"You'd have to have an ounce of aptitude for mathematical endeavors."

With a sharp swat administered to her daughter's shoulder, Jennifer Shepard turned and marched to the cabinet to pour her own coffee, heels clicking pointedly. She shook her head, red hair dancing down her back.

" _Brat_ ," she accused playfully. She arched a brow and poured her own cup, turning back to the little snark queen she'd raised. "And you think my skills are lacking – that my Master's in information systems involved _no_ math – "

"Math a computer does for you isn't math," Natalie sang sweetly.

Jenny smirked and took a long sip of her coffee, shrugging her shoulders a bit.

"Nerd," she accused.

Natalie blew on her cup of coffee primly.

"Nerds run the world."

Jenny sat down at the table with her – two chairs, and only two; they'd never seen a need for anymore. The brownstone, an impossibly lucky find in the heart of Georgetown, had become theirs at a steal of a price – found for Jenny through some resources Hetty had given her, and paid for with the bulk of what Jasper Shepard's will had left his daughter – and was a cozy safe haven for a single mother and her sort of grown daughter making their way in the district.

Natalie took a deep sip of coffee, closed her eyes, and then set the mug down and put her head down. She pushed her hair back, gathering it in her hands and shaking it messily down her back, and pouted, looking up.

"I'm so tired," she whined.

"Ah, yet another benefit of abstaining from Caf-pow!," Jenny mused, winking. "You could sleep an extra hour and a half."

This little caffeine haven of Natalie's was near the Navy Yard; she'd discovered it while visiting Jenny at work one day. In the summers, and when she'd been going to a Georgetown middle school, it had been hardly an inconvenience to go – but her high school, the illustrious and competitive Thomas Jefferson High School for Science and Technology in Fairfax, Virginia, was extremely out of the way of the Navy Yard, yet Natalie insisted on getting up frightfully early so she could get her staple drink before she took the metro, and then the bus, to her high school.

It was absurd, but it was not a quirk or a desire Jenny worried about nipping in the bud; Natalie chose to take public transport to school even though Jenny offered to get up and drive her, and at fourteen years old, Jenny allowed her that independence. The only reason they weren't living in Alexandria or Fairfax, close to the school, is because they'd both fallen so in love with the townhouse that they felt it was meant to be, and they hadn't been sure Natalie would be accepted to TJ, anyway.

But – she had been; after one year in D.C. public schools, she'd taken her tests and put in her application to go to the county school, and they'd taken her – and it made everything worth it: Jenny's request to be moved to the east coast NCIS offices, her quick liquidation of all her father's financial assets, her move away from Melanie and Max and all the connections she'd made in California – they were east coasters now, and Natalie – Natalie was thriving in it.

"I already slept an extra thirty minutes – that's why I look like a hobo," Natalie sniffed. She rubbed her nose. "My ears are still ringing; are your ears ringing?"

Jenny shook her head, leaning back coolly.

"My ears got accustomed to loud shrieking noises when you were a baby. You hysterically screaming the lyrics to _Papa Don't Preach_ over the din of concert music is not much different."

"You mean my infantile crying was attuned to _Papa Don't Preach_ two full years before it was released?" Natalie asked, feigning awe. "What genius! What marvel! By God, Mother, I'm owed royalties!"

Jenny smirked at her, and Natalie gave her a small grin, pushing her hair back again. She scrunched her mouth and poked at a point above her lip.

"Did I get the beauty mark off?" she asked.

Her mother nodded.

"Ha," Natalie gloated. She winked. "Yours is still smudgy," she teased.

Jenny put two fingers to the place she'd drawn the signature Madonna beauty mark – last night, in the middle of the week, and in a rare act of wildness, Jenny had taken Natalie to the Madonna concert in Baltimore – the tickets had been purchased months ago, as a reward for getting into the competitive fancy high school.

They had both dressed up in iconic pop queen outfits – one of the strange positive twists of having a daughter that you were barely sixteen years older than, and a mother who'd never had a real teenager-hood, was that things like Madonna concerts in the middle of the week happened occasionally.

 _Just_ occasionally.

As close as Jenny and Natalie were, Jenny was diligent about drawing a line that established the break between mother and daughter; she made it clear that when she needed to, she would come down on the _parent_ side of the line and not the _cool best friend_ side of the line, but with a child who both considered her inspiring and who was more interested in jet fuel and astrophysics than lipstick or sneaking out, Jenny rarely had to.

The worst Natalie had ever done was dye her hair black and – well, despite some snippiness, and some growly anger for a few days, Jenny had tried not to pick that battle – though even now, this morning, as she looked at Natalie's black locks over her coffee, she felt nettled by it – Natalie had always had such beautiful auburn-brunette-russet hair.

The Wednesday Addams Stunt, as she liked to mentally refer to it, had not been Jenny's favorite thing, but she swallowed it sourly and grit her teeth, because she'd rather not fight about it – and she knew, grudgingly, it had been done in a little act of defiance.

Black hair, Jenny decided, was preferable to drugs or a grandchild – and though she'd never, ever admit it out loud, with Natalie's icy blue eyes the black hair was _arresting_ to say the least. Half of Jenny's problem with it wasn't the act of defiance – she understood the impetus for that - but the fact that it made Natalie look a lot older and a lot more desirable than Jenny was comfortable with a fourteen-year-old looking.

Luckily, all the boys Natalie went to school with at her geeky magnet school were the least threatening teenage males on the planet; none of them looked like the corn-fed, small-town all-American movie stars of Jenny's hometown, and none of them, thankfully, were as swoon-worthy as Jenny's own teenage love.

"Why are you up so early, anyway?" Natalie asked, still peering at her coffee as if it were not to be trusted. "Aren't you back at the Navy Yard for good now?"

Jenny sighed, and leaned forward dramatically.

"Natalie, I physically cannot sleep past seven a.m. anymore," she confided.

Natalie leaned back, putting her hand to her chest.

"Heavens, is that what it means to be _old_?"

"I thought we talked about that word."

"Well, from my perspective – "

"I'm still closer to your age than your friends' parents' ages!" whined Jenny, pursing her lips. She gestured playfully. "Look at me. My teenage body snapped right back. It's all where it's supposed to be, babe – I'm practically Stacy's mom."

"You're Natalie's mom," the teenager said dryly, "and Natalie would like you to stop."

Jenny grinned at her wickedly.

"I thought about setting my alarm later, but since we didn't get in until three a.m. and you sleep like a rock, I wanted to make sure you got up," she explained.

The thing was – up until this week – literally, this very _day_ – Jenny had been up before Natalie, to the point where she'd often been leaving just as Natalie came down for a bowl of cereal or her pop tart. NCIS had been taken advantage of the Master's degree they'd paid for, and sent her to the most local field offices to get cyber units running – the worst had been Norfolk; that commute was absolute hell; then she'd been at Pax River for about three months, and just recently, she'd been at Quantico. She was finally, permanently, back at the Navy Yard: settled in her niche, extremely close with a metro commute, and able to stop spending a fortune on gasoline.

Natalie yawned pointedly.

"I'm up," she confirmed.

"You sure about that?"

"Caaaf- _pooooow_ ," she drawled, pouting.

Jenny laughed.

"Bug, if you want to go back up to bed, I'll call you in sick to school," she said, shrugging lightly. "You and I know it won't set you back for a second."

Natalie looked startled, and appalled.

"Mom – _no_ , I can't just _skip_ – I want to have _perfect_ attendance, all four years."

Jenny put her elbow on the table, arching an eyebrow.

"And on _that_ note," she began, catching Natalie's eye wryly – and half-seriously.

"Please don't start."

"Do you know what derails perfect attendance?"

"Mom, it is too early for this."

"Do you, Natalie?"

Natalie groaned, and closed her eyes.

"You got it, babe: _teen pregnancy_ ," Jenny announced, driving the point home.

Natalie opened her eyes and glared at her. Jenny nodded emphatically.

"One minute you're a perfect student, the next minute," Jenny snapped pointedly, "you can't go to calculus because your baby gets an ear infection – _bam_ , you fail physical science because you need to make sure your baby's fever isn't the flu or meningitis," Jenny nodded again, mustering an extremely intimidating glare. "Not to mention, you never have time to paint your nails."

Natalie burst out laughing.

"Was that the worst of it, Mom?" she teased.

Jenny pretended to think.

"Well, one time you pulled an earring out of my ear. It bled. I felt that was extremely ungrateful."

Natalie cocked an eyebrow dryly.

"My sincerest apologies."

"In all seriousness, Natalie Winter," Jenny began, not batting an eyelid. "You're going to be fifteen soon – "

"Yeah, yeah, and fifteen is when you got pregnant," Natalie said, interrupting calmly. "I know, Mom," she said, her voice level. She tilted her head, hair falling in her face a little. "I had a dream once that you went a whole _week_ without giving me your Scary Year Spiel."

That's what she called Jenny's constant teaching moments and speeches and maniacal obsession with sex talks and liberal communication – the Scary Year Spiel. Jenny had gotten pregnant when she was fifteen, and had a baby at sixteen; the fact that the product of her indiscretion was reaching that exact age sent her into fits of anxiety on almost a daily basis.

"Keep dreaming," Jenny replied dryly.

Natalie cupped her mug and took a long sip, finishing her coffee in three large gulps, so she couldn't really taste it, and she burned her tongue. She licked her lips.

"Besides, I'm saving myself for Palmer Joss," she murmured wickedly.

Jenny rolled her eyes half-heartedly, and still took a moment to look at her worriedly – but as much as she worried, and she did panic about it – deep down, she didn't think she had anything to worry about: Natalie was focused, she was smart, balanced, and ambitious – she didn't even have a boyfriend. She wasn't in the same opportunistic circumstance her mother had been.

Natalie checked her watch. She stood up.

"I have to book it – if I'm going to get my brain nectar and meet Jess to look over some of this stuff – "

Jenny eyed her intently – well, then again, there was _Jess_ – but Natalie swore Jess was nothing but a friend.

"—and is it okay if Emily gives me a ride home?"

Jenny hesitated.

"Emily wants to drive into the city just to give you a ride home?" she asked warily.

Natalie shrugged.

"I mean, her boyfriend goes to Georgetown, so it's not an imposition."

"Ugh," Jenny said, barely hiding her distaste. "That girl's parents need a reality check – fine, I guess that's okay – how long has she been driving again?"

"Mom; it's fine," Natalie soothed – Emily Richards was the first female friend Natalie had made at her magnet school – she was a junior, and the only reason Jenny didn't think it was absurd she wanted to hang out with a freshman was for two reasons: Natalie had placed into the junior Physics class, and in the entire science and tech focused school, Natalie was one of four girls – total.

The pickin's were slim.

Jenny just didn't like that Emily Richards, sixteen, was dating someone who could legally drink alcohol.

Natalie stood there, a little wary by the look on her mother's face, and cleared her throat.

"Uh, if you're that uncomfortable with it, I can just – "

"No, it's okay," Jenny said firmly. "I trust you."

Natalie beamed, and pushed her hair back.

"What are you doing with Jess this morning?" Jenny asked.

"Oh – there's a science fair in January; I'm going to enter it," Natalie said, grabbing an apple from the counter. "I'm going to figure out how to synthesize sustainable jet fuel – it'll be fun, we'll light some stuff on fire in the tests," Natalie grinned cheekily. "'Bye, Mom," she sang, biting into the apple and disappearing into the study to gather her schools things.

Jenny got up with her coffee, listening to her daughter shuffle around, and she smiled to herself – every day, she felt so much pride in Natalie; every day, she wished Jasper Shepard could see her, that Stillwater could see them – every day she forgot a little more how disastrous a baby had seemed when she was fifteen-years-old.

She wouldn't choose it for Natalie, of course, but her own life – was not half as tragic as she'd oh-so-dramatically imagined it would be, back then.

She had a Master's degree from Georgetown, for God's sake; she was steadily and comfortably climbing up the ranks at NCIS, a veritable expert in computer forensics and cyber criminology.

Things could have been so much worse.

" _MMmaaamm_?"

Jenny looked up at the muffled sound, and arched her brows, amused.

Natalie paused at the door, backpack over her shoulder, apple clenched between her teeth, her faux-black hair tumbling down her back messily. She delicately shook the apple loose from her teeth, and blinked mildly, considering her mother.

"Yes?" Jenny asked simply.

Natalie shrugged.

"I'm still mad at you," she said matter-of-factly.

There was nothing malicious about it, nothing vindictive or cruel; she simple said it – as a casual reminder, as a warning – pointing out the one solitary estuary of discord that disrupted what was the calm river of their relationship.

Jenny pursed her lips, sighing heavily. She closed her eyes, opened them, and tilted her head.

"I know," she said dully, quietly – she was familiar with this; since their one tense fight – argument? – there had been a bit of a – struggle – between them.

Periodically, Natalie reminded her that her amicability did not mean she had forgotten.

"Have a good day at school, Bug," Jenny said simply.

Natalie, dog tags hanging down the front of her sweater in a slightly defiant manner, inclined her head in thanks, and turned on her heel – out the door for the walk to the metro, the trek to her precious Caf-Pow, and the long haul to school –

-and Jenny leaned her head heavily against the doorframe in the hall of the townhouse, groaning quietly to herself; if only Melanie hadn't sent that goddamn box.

* * *

There was one significant change at NCIS headquarters – at least, there was only one that was immediately visible to Jenny's eye, only one that had changed since she was last a permanent fixture in the office sometime last year –

"Orange?" she mused loudly, one eyebrow arched, as she stood at the railing on the catwalk with the assistant director and one of her favorite agents. "Orange – who decided to paint the walls _orange_?"

"We took a poll on paint colour," Assistant Director Morrow said.

"It got extremely heated," Special Agent Whitney Sharpe added solemnly.

"We feared blood would be drawn over whether the walls would be ecru or cerulean."

"Ecru or cerulean?" Jenny quoted, in disbelief.

"Oh, yeah, we had to define those to half the agency," Whitney snorted.

"Why didn't I get any of these e-mails?"

"You weren't at headquarters," Morrow said flatly.

"Okay – so, between beige and blue, how did orange – ?"

"Agent Franks threatened to paint the walls with goat's blood if we painted them ecru, and Agent Robichaux threatened to paint the walls with _Frank's_ blood if we painted them cerulean," began Whitney, pausing so Morrow could finish.

"—so we painted them orange, because it was the one colour every single person hated," Morrow stated grandly.

"Ah," Jenny noted dryly. She nodded, looking over the bullpen from the catwalk. "Naturally – enrage everyone."

"Very astute, Shepard," Morrow said.

She sighed, and thrust her hand out.

"It's not even – a sunset orange or a burnt orange or an _apricot_ orange – "

"Apricot?!"

"It's just – hideous…orange," Jenny lamented.

" _A-pri-cot_?" repeated Morrow incredulously.

Agent Sharpe held up her hands.

"The walls are an extremely offensive orange," she said matter-of-factly. "I know, I know – a dreadful shock," she sighed mockingly, giving Jenny a wry look – they did go way back, after all; Whitney had been no more than a probie agent when Jenny started as an intern, hoping to work in recruitment and special operations – and lo and behold; now she did.

It was a welcome surprise that she was in D.C. for a short while; usually she worked out of field offices, or in Europe.

"That is not the only thing that's changed around here, Jenny," Whitney said simply.

Jenny smiled a little, leaning on the railing – it did seem strange, to feel like an outsider; after all, her home office was technically the Navy yard, it's just that – a year here, they'd sent her to do work in Norfolk, kept her there for months, and then kept her at so many other local field offices that she really wasn't up to date on anything regarding headquarters.

She'd even missed the influx of the most recent class of agents – although she'd met two of the FLET-C class of ninety-nine at Quantico – decent men; no women came in with this class.

"Hey," she said, whipping her head to Whitney on that note. "What was with the FLET-C sausage fest this year?"

Morrow glared at her.

Whitney shrugged.

"Women don't apply," she said simply. "You had a perfectly good chance to take an agent slot this round – "

"No," Jenny said shortly. "Natalie is still in school."

She refused to even consider the position while her daughter still needed her; the risk was too high, and even then, she wasn't sure the agent route was for her. Though her choice to study information technology had been a practical one – knowing as she had that it would be an in-demand job – she found she enjoyed the work, and she thought maybe she'd like to move into an analyst-intelligence position when she could.

She had a good niche as the go-to Cyber girl, though, and she was comfortable where she was for the time being. She still had to think first about Natalie; Natalie had three and a half more years of high school before she started her independent life, and Jenny could maybe consider being more than just a mother.

Jenny turned her head, furrowing her brow lightly.

"Changes," she quoted. "Yeah – what has changed? What're you back for, Whit?"

Whitney tossed her head primly.

"I'm here to handle you."

"Handle me?" Jenny asked.

Whitney winked at her, and Morrow signed crisply.

"She means she's softening the – blow, or what I felt might be a blow."

Jenny arched a brow slightly and tilted her head.

"Am I being fired?" she asked conspiratorially.

"God, no," Morrow blustered. He set his jaw. "You're being given – "

"—an Intern!" Whitney burst out wickedly, wiggling her fingers. "I found him myself –he's an _absolute_ genius, he'll be running Cyber crimes, one day, and I managed to wrangle him away from the CIA – "

" _He'll_ be running cyber crimes? Gee, thanks Whitney," Jenny said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.

Whitney's face fell a little.

"You don't _want_ to be in info tech forever, you told me that!"

"I'm messing with you," Jenny soothed. She flashed a smile, to show she was – she was proud of her work, but she really didn't want to be a tech nerd for the rest of her life; that was Natalie, that was – well, these up-and-coming, younger…millennials. They'd be running the computer stuff; Jenny had already decided that once she had succeeded in getting Natalie raised and ready to go she was going to … take some time to figure her interests out.

"Well, he's an impeccable asset, and we're assigning him to you," Whitney said logically. "Consider it a vote of confidence – we're putting a new intern in your very impressive former-intern hands."

"What's wrong with him?" Jenny asked.

Morrow smirked slightly. Whitney cringed.

"Nothing's wrong with him – "

"Then _why_ ," Jenny said simply, nodding at Morrow, "did he have _you_ come to soften the blow?"

Whitney hesitated.

"He's – ah, well, he's twitchy – but he's nervous, I mean, you know, think Anthony Michael Hall, Weird Science –that – poindexter type," Whitney began.

"He's young," Morrow stepped in, straightforward.

Jenny shrugged.

"I'm young," she reminded them both – sometimes her co-workers forgot, because she had a fourteen-year-old daughter, that she was barely in her thirties. She paused a moment. "Believe me, it's easier to give orders to someone younger than you; they don't hold such a grudge against it," she said dryly.

She ran into that problem a lot –being female, young, and knowledgeable in technology that older, dinosaur men did not yet understand, she got a lot of flak – for being a 'quota' hire, for being a tease – whatever the sexist overlords decided to throw at her.

She didn't care anymore. She was good at her job. Madeleine Albright was the Secretary of State. It was the turn of the century, and women were about to start ruling the world.

"He's younger than our usual hires," Whitney began diplomatically.

"Christ," Morrow said, rolling his eyes. "Jennifer, he's a seventeen-year-old MIT student."

Jenny's jaw dropped – and though jaw dropping was common in fiction, in her own life it had only actually happened two or three times.

Whitney glared at their colleague. He folded his arms.

"I don't have time for you to beat around the bush – his father is a Navy admiral, that's how we discovered him," Morrow said. "The father is not entirely pleased the son is so – soft, as he calls it – but he has unmistakable talent, and we need – "

"You hired a college freshman as an intern?" Jenny asked, still taken aback.

"That's the thing, Jenny," Whitney said quickly. "He's _not_ a freshman – he's seventeen, and he's _graduating_ MIT in December."

Jenny's jaw – well, it dropped again.

She didn't feel – threatened, per se, but the memory of how startled she'd been to be recruited from California State, when Berkeley and CalTech and MIT and Harvard were turning out such geniuses, was strong, and she felt a little – well, perhaps she was jealous, perhaps just in disbelief.

"If he's – how am I supposed to teach someone who is clearly more intelligent – "

Whitney was shaking her head.

"No, no, no – listen to me – he's got innovative ideas, and he's very skilled with computers, but he needs to be taught to interact with people, to work with the agents – he isn't being brought in to usurp you; he _needs_ you," she said.

Jenny put her hand to her cheek.

"I understand that he's young, but – I'm wondering if there's something else that makes you think I'd balk," she began warily, looking between them both.

Whitney shrugged. Morrow shook his head.

"No, it was his youth," he said simply. "I thought – erroneously, perhaps – that you'd consider the idea to be – ah, that we were essentially asking you to babysit."

Jenny laughed a little.

Morrow gave her a wry smile.

"I had qualms about asking you to take an intern who was young enough to be your daughter – well, son, in this case."

"Tom," Jenny said, in a rare familiar use of his name, "I was sixteen when Natalie was born. Not fourteen," she said crisply. "And Natalie is only fourteen herself." She thought about it a moment.

A seventeen-year-old MIT senior to be her intern…well, it was surprising, but not altogether unwelcome. It was one of those odd moments where she realized that, naturally, people thought of her as someone old enough to mother, to mentor, to guide people, when really she'd been a mother for almost exactly fifty percent of her entire life, at this point, and sometimes, just sometimes, she still felt like she was just a little girl.

Still, she didn't abhor the idea.

"Well," she said simply, "like I said – it's much less troublesome to have an intern who is younger than me than to be saddled with men older than me who think I know absolutely nothing."

She stopped, and smirked a little.

"At least maybe this one won't think I'm just a trollop trying to sleep her way through the agency," she said bluntly.

Morrow looked slightly pained, but Whitney laughed smugly.

"No, he'd be much too timid to even glance over you in admiration – but I would keep him away from Natalie, you know – he went to Thomas Jefferson for a year, before he tested into MIT – "

Jenny groaned.

"Thanks for that warning – Natalie's already making noise about skipping to a higher grade – "

Morrow cleared his throat, cutting her off.

"Agent Sharpe?" he asked.

She sprung into action, shaking herself.

"Right – well, Mr. MIT is here; he's down in your lab area waiting, we just wanted to brief you first – I'll take you down there."

Jenny pushed off the railing and, with a parting word to Morrow, followed Whitney down the stairs.

"Is Franks around?" Jenny asked, as they cut through the middle of the bullpen where the growly agent in question usually sat.

Whitney shrugged.

"Haven't seen him. He's working on a task force with McClane, now – McClane's here."

"Aw, really?" Jenny asked – McClane was the agent who'd originally taken her on in Los Angeles.

Whitney nodded.

"And they each have a probie – "

"McClane isn't with Vance anymore?"

"No, Vance was overseas for a while – Paris – and now he's back on the West Coast – his wife had a second baby, though, they named him Jared," Whitney said abruptly. "No – McClane and Franks both have a new probie, from the recent FLET-C class – sort of – "

"Sort of?"

"Well, McClane's came from the FLET-C class, Franks' probie only went down there for testing – military background, he didn't need the training."

Jenny nodded, as they got on the elevator and headed for the level that held the forensics lab, and the budding technology offices.

"I wish they'd saddled Franks with a girl; he could use one," snorted Jenny.

"His new punching bag is hot," Whitney said bluntly.

"What's the agent's name?" Jenny asked.

Whitney started to answer, and then frowned, staring hard at the elevator doors until they opened.

"Whit?" Jenny prompted.

"I don't know," Whitney said, exiting with Jenny.

"You don't – ?"

"It just occurred to me that I've only ever heard Franks call him 'Probie.'"

"Oh, so you weren't involved in his recruitment?"

"No," Whitney said simply. "I've been working more specialized recruitment lately, not agents – and besides, something about that guy is weird; I think he was dishonorably discharged from the military."

Jenny's brows went up.

"No way he got a clearance."

"Well, he's there," Whitney said. "Lookin' all, cute and wounded all the time," she added vaguely, gesturing for Jenny to follow her. "Hey, here's a treat – you got a new office," she said, throwing open a door.

Jenny stepped in the door, and grinned – it was a nice new office, too. She wasn't surprised; she'd known she would be coming back to the Navy Yard with a more official home for herself, some more equipment, more space to deal with the fledgling department they were creating – but the meager furnishings that had been put in were a clear indication of how much she was appreciated, and she reveled in that.

Grand mahogany desk, a shiny new filing cabinet, a regal looking leather chair – even a coffee table, and a coffee machine sitting on it –

"That's from Abby Sciuto," Whitney said, as Jenny picked up a little card.

She smiled as she took in the gothic calligraphy, and made a mental note to go see Abby as soon as she made the acquaintance of this MIT student. She planned on spending this day to – essentially just settle in, take stock of everything, and get ready to hit the ground running tomorrow.

She'd have to ingratiate herself back into the flow of headquarters operations, and find a way to meet all the new personnel and establish herself and her expertise in their minds.

"Just a minute, Jenny," Whitney said.

Jenny sat on the edge of her new desk, immediately thinking of what she'd need to do to decorate it – just outside the office was the small maze of computer areas and technology storage she was familiar with, and she was just down the hall from Abby's lab – a welcome kingdom to thrive in, really.

She needed a corkboard, and plenty of pictures of Natalie – she'd have to take everything out of that cubicle she'd always been in upstairs, and move it down here – despite the responsibility she'd had in the field offices lately, it was nice to have a more permanent space.

"In here – calm down, kid – Jenny, this is Timothy McGee, the MIT student," Whitney said, nudging a slender young man forward. "Tim, this is Jennifer Shepard – she's officially an investigative assistant, but she heads up our cyber and information technology efforts in the area."

He was an earnest looking kid – nice haircut, clearly military-influenced, and a nice, put-together outfit. He wore khaki slacks and a crisp oxford shirt with a sweater over it, but no pocket protector – so only half as nerdy as she'd imagined.

She smiled, and extended her hand.

Whitney poked Timothy McGee.

"Shake her hand, Timothy," she hissed.

Timothy McGee seemed to snap into action. He grasped her hand with a surprising amount of firmness – probably the Admiral father had taught him how to shake hands – and put on a hasty smile.

"Hello – good morning, Mrs. Shepard, I – I'm excited to – be here."

"Miss," she said, as she often did. "I'm not married. I'd prefer to be called Shepard."

"Just – Shepard?"

" _Just_ Shepard," she reiterated. "As you, Timothy, will be _just_ McGee."

"Okay, Mrs. Shepard. Miss. Shepard. I'm…sorry. I'm nervous," he stammered.

Jenny laughed, and shrugged.

"You've every right to be nervous," she said matter-of-factly. "I won't hold it against you. Now, there are two other people who often work with me – us – one is an agent, and one is an analyst; have you met them?"

"I met one," McGee offered. "The night shift one, he was leaving this morning."

"That's Kirk," Jenny said. "Kirk is very weird, but he means well. That leaves Agent Charleston. Charleston is good at what he does, but he's extremely angry to answer to a woman and he won't be happy that someone so young was sought out. Ignore his attitude; listen to his expertise," she said quickly.

McGee stared at her, hooked on her every word – so, while she had him, she continued.

"To my knowledge, NCIS still doesn't pay their interns, but we work you like regular employees and if you can handle that, it almost guarantees you get picked up for employment – and I doubt they'll let some MIT savant get away. I'll make sure we use what you can do – never be afraid to make suggestions – and if you like, I'll make sure you get a week with the special agents – they did that for me when I was an intern," she said, and winked at Whitney, "and it was quite eventful."

In other words, the special agents were the best hazers on the planet.

McGee nodded. He blinked, swallowed, and turned to look at Whitney. Whitney beamed at him blithely.

"I told you she was amazing," she said.

"Sharpe," Jenny asked, deciding to show a little more professionalism than usual, for Tim's sake. "You still running orientation with him?"

"Yes, I'm taking him to HR for credentials next," she said.

"Good, do that. McGee, if you don't have plans, I'll take you out to lunch later and send you off early to rest – or do homework, or whatever it is you do in your free time. I need to get my bearings here before I focus on acclimating you."

He began to nod.

"Definitely, I understand – yes, Mrs – ugh, Shepard, that's fine," he stammered. "I'm –" he started. He took a deep breath. "I'm really happy to be here," he said, suddenly fierce. "The Admiral – er, my dad – he never thought I'd do anything, with my computer skills and, uh, well," McGee smiled a little proudly. "His own Navy thought different."

Jenny smiled at the boy – once he got some confidence, he'd be quite the charming, confident force. He started to leave, and she stepped forward.

"McGee," she said. "I heard – you attended Thomas Jefferson High School?"

"For a year," he said quickly. "I graduated when I was 15."

Jenny paused.

"I'm not unfamiliar with the kind of intelligence that comes out of that school," she said lightly. "My daughter is a freshman there."

"You have a _freshman_ daughter - ?"

"Come on now, Tim," Whitney said loudly, diverting the conversation. "I'll tell you everything you need to know in order to keep your foot out of your mouth."

Jenny grinned, watching Whitney lead him towards the elevator to take him up to human resources, and after a cursory glance around her new office, she exited it, heading down the hall to say hello to Abby.

The lab was as loud and vivacious as usual, and as she entered, she silently thanked God that NCIS had hired someone as bombastic and vivacious as Abby – not that they'd had a choice; she was the premier forensic scientist in the region, and in an effort to outshine the FBI, NCIS had snatched her up.

"Jenny!" squealed the Goth, whirling towards her and giving her a warm hug. "Back from Quantico for good?"

"For good."

"Hallelujah," Abby sighed, clasping her hands. "The balance is back – Franks has been ripping Kirk and Charleston to shreds which, while amusing, is harmful to us all."

"I can handle Franks," Jenny laughed. "Now, my new intern – "

"Cute little thing," Abby trilled, winking.

"Come to lunch with us," Jenny offered brightly. "You can help me give him the NCIS 411."

"Done deal," Abby retorted smoothly. "I'll make sure I get something concrete up to the bullpen so no one tries to persuade me to catch baddies during my break."

Jenny smiled, and leaned against a metal table.

"Abs? I hate to barge in asking favors right away, but I've got one."

"I'll entertain a motion," Abby said primly.

"Natalie is doing some sort of science fair project, and she was wondering if you could provide some – "

"Materials, and a testing location? She called me this morning, from her school," Abby said wryly. "I agreed. I can't let her take anything out of the building, but I can supervise experiments, and she said – "

"She can request materials from school with proper justification," Jenny acknowledged. She nodded – Abby was such a blessing, always encouraging Natalie and helping her with her more physically scientific ideas and projects.

Abby swept up her Caf-pow! and took a long, thoughtful sip, eyeing her friend.

"How are things with Natalie?" she asked.

Jenny sighed, well aware of what Abby was referring to. She shrugged, and spread out her hands.

"Fragile impasse?" she tried. She sighed heavily again. "I think she understands that I'm trying to get my bearings – and at the very least, she gets that I'm – well, even if I get into her father with her, there's nothing I can really do about it."

Abby nodded – Abby was the only person Jenny had told about the issue – about the disruptive box that Melanie Shepard, whether purposefully or in a Melly-ish turn of scatterbrained ignorance, had sent to Natalie and Jenny that brought up all kinds of – questions.

Specifically, the box full of things, including Gibbs' early letters to baby Natalie, that Jenny had conveniently forgotten to pack up and bring first when she moved out of Melly's, and then when she moved to the east coast.

"I just don't know what to tell her," Jenny said, tired.

"Is he really so bad?" Abby asked, lips puckering.

Jenny looked at her, and blinked.

"No," she said, and shook her head. "No, no," she repeated. "He's not terrible, he – well, Abby," she began frankly. "Have you ever dug yourself a hole so deep you can't climb out of it?"

Abby started to reply, but before she could, what appeared to be a dog bounded out of her office and rushed up to her legs, turning quickly and giving a sharp, excitable bark when it saw a new person.

Jenny's brows shot up. Abby reached down to rub the dog's ears – he, or she, was a gorgeous, seemingly pure-bred German shepherd, with a dirty, frayed blue collar and perked up ears. Abby beamed at him.

"She's kind of our new mascot," Abby said, as if she were sharing some private joke.

The dog came to Jenny and nudged her knees, sniffing at her eagerly. Delighted, she took a closer look, and the dog whined at her happily.

"Oh, hello there," she greeted softly. "And what's your name?" she asked, crouching down. She let the dog sniff her curiously, and then reached out to pet it affectionately – she liked dogs, and Natalie had always wanted one, despite Jenny insisting two people who were always busy and away from home did not need one.

"Bugsy," Abby supplied the dog's name brightly.

Jenny laughed, and looked up. The dog licked her jaw.

"That's – ha, that's what I call Natalie; she'll love it – whose dog is this?" Jenny asked, bemused. "Is she part of some case?" Impulsively, she kissed the animal's snout. Her fingers caught on something cold wrapped around the dog's collar – dog tags, she recognized immediately.

Abby started to answer, and Jenny started to explore the tags more, but a much more pressing matter interrupted – sort of.

"Mrs. Shepard!" Tim McGee burst out, bolting into the lab, forgetting what she'd told him, and in an absolute panic. "I came back down to wait for my credentials and I was – exploring – I did something weird to the computers – "

Abby, laughing, called Bugsy to her as Jenny got up to go with McGee. It was probably nothing more than some prank of Kirk's – he liked to booby-trap new recruits' computers.

She was leading him down the hall when she heard the elevator go off, and then, unmistakably, the sound of Franks' voice as it burst into the corridor –

"What the hell is that mangy animal doing in here? I told him not to – so help me – where the _hell_ is Probie – ?"

Jenny laughed silently at Franks' blustering, but with her own probie to attend to, she didn't go to watch the angry show; she ushered McGee into the computer room to work things out with him, and tried to shake off her brief conversation with Abby – as well as the little micro-aggression reminder Natalie had given her this morning concerning the elephants they had to address.

* * *

Natalie had dog tags clenched between her teeth as she lazily studied some of the finer points of the twelfth-grade physics book she'd borrowed from one of her classmates. It was slightly more challenging than usual, but she was finding it easy to understand – which was good; it meant she'd have more reason to persuade her mother, and the school, that she could totally handle jumping ahead a grade or two.

She knew her mother had turned town Brent Langer when he'd suggested bumping her up in elementary school, and Jenny had fully explained why. Her mistake had been suggesting that it could be re-visited when Natalie was old enough to discuss all the upsides and downsides.

Well, Natalie felt, at this point, she was – she just wanted to make sure her mother understood that she wasn't trying to move quickly because she wanted to get out of the house, or live at college, or be more mature than her age – she just liked learning, and she wanted to do as much of it as she could without wasting time on things she already comprehended.

Natalie did, however, understand her mother's qualms – and shared some, herself – so she prepared herself for the possibility, but she wasn't fighting too hard just yet.

She clicked her teeth against the dog tags, pointing her nail at a line of text; someone's backpack thumped against the table next to her, and she looked over as someone pulled a chair out.

Jess Hayden swung the chair around, straddled it, and scooted it against the table, mimicking her dog-tag-chewing habit but smacking his gum. She snapped her book shut, using a yellowed, folded piece of paper as a bookmark.

"Took you long enough," she said, looking her best friend up and down. "Where were you?"

"Detention."

"Detention ended at 3:30," Natalie pointed out.

Jess shrugged, and smirked wickedly.

"I got extra detention," he bragged.

She rolled her eyes.

"Right, what did you do again?" she asked.

"Blurred the lines between scientific pyrotechnics and arson."

Natalie rolled her eyes harder, and he put on a mock pouting face.

"Hey, Gnat, have mercy – I'm just a poor kid with daddy abandonment issues," he simpered mockingly.

She leaned back and folded her arms, twisting her fingers in her dog tags.

"Not all of us want to wreck our own lives just to get attention from absent fathers," she said primly, grinning a little.

Jess Hayden was an interesting student – he'd been kicked out of three schools for acting out – for all kinds of misbehavior that was harmless, technically, but disruptive – and one keen judge tasked with putting him in alternative school had realized it might be Jess's overwhelming boredom with curriculum that was contributing to his delinquency, so he'd mandated he be tested for admission to Thomas Jefferson.

To an extent, it worked; Jess was still some sort of prankster, hoodlum wannabe, but he was a genius in the physics lab, and with more to keep him occupied, and people who actually tried to cultivate his talent despite all the leather he wore and his devil-may-care appearance, he was actually – shaping up.

Sort of.

"What's the book?"

"Something Emily leant me," Natalie answered, tapping the cover. She shrugged. "You know, the usual. Quantum stuff."

"You ever watch that _Quantum Leap_ show?" Jess asked.

"No," she said quickly, leaning in. "But did you see _The X-Files_ last week?"

"Shit – _yes_ ," Jess began, in a rare show of an emotion that wasn't patently aloof. He started to ask her opinion on part of the episode, but before he could, someone leaned across the table.

"Natalie, hi – "

"Hey," Jess snapped at him immediately. "You're interrupting."

Natalie closed her eyes lightly, as the other guy retorted:

"I think Natalie can decide if I'm interrupting," he said loftily.

Natalie opened her eyes slowly, and tilted her head.

"You did _literally_ interrupt, Dean," she said carefully.

Frowning only a little, Dean Forrester leaned across the table a little more, completely ignoring Jess and focusing on Natalie. He was in the same class as Jess and Natalie _and_ had developed a crush on Natalie – it wasn't exactly a rare occurrence, since she was one of four females in the school – but the problem was, Dean seemed to think that, just by virtue of being nice, he deserved Natalie.

Dean seemed to gloss over her statement.

"You entering the science fair?" Dean asked.

Natalie nodded.

"Got to rack up that scholarship money early, huh?" Dean said, giving her an awkward wink.

"No, I think I'm going to do ROTC in college," she said blithely. "Besides, I have a single mother, I'll get plenty of scholarships – I want the internship with NASA."

"You aren't guaranteed an internship –"

"I know. But every science fair winner has gone on to get one."

Dean nodded.

"Well – need a partner?"

Natalie smiled at him gently.

"I told you last week I was working with Jess," she said, tilting her head.

Next to her, Jess flashed Dean a smug grin, and leaned back in his chair. Dean gave him an annoyed look, and then shifted his body, looking at Natalie seriously.

"Why do you hang out with him, anyway?" he asked bluntly. "Delinquent genius," snorted Dean. "What's his aspiration – the next Unabomber?"

"Dean," Natalie demurred gently. "I like Jess."

Dean frowned. He took a breath, and then switched gears.

"You doing anything Friday night?"

Natalie gave him a slightly sympathetic look.

"No, Dean," was all she said – though she was answering his unspoken request for a date, rather than his actual question.

Frowning again, Dean sighed, shrugged, and trudged off – leaving Jess and Natalie to their studying. Jess gave Natalie an annoyed look.

"Why don't you be _meaner_ to him?" he demanded. "He's a _dick_."

"He's not hurting me," Natalie said. "He's got an ego, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be a bully."

"Yeah, I guess I wouldn't bully someone who looks like one of those Columbine guys," Jess remarked shortly.

"Jess," Natalie snapped. "That wasn't funny."

She shuddered – the brutal school shooting in Colorado had happened in April, and it was still making news everywhere as the country tried to make sense of what had happened. After it had happened, Natalie's mother had dragged Natalie to NCIS six days in a row so the agents could train her on how to kick a gun out of someone's hand, or how to escape from a chokehold.

Then she bought her own handgun, which Natalie thought was a _slightly_ absurd reaction to gun violence - but then, Jenny worked for an armed agency, so she was conditioned to see guns as good things in the hands of good guys.

Natalie gave Jess a prim look, just for good measure.

"You look like a criminal, anyway," she told him bluntly.

He popped his leather collar.

"Ladies love that," he drawled.

Natalie snorted derisively. She tapped her fingers on her book.

"You want to discuss our project or – "

"Speaking of ladies," Jess started.

"Guess not," Natalie muttered to herself, and then arched an eyebrow at him.

"Did you talk to your friend?" Jess asked, barreling on.

Natalie feigned innocence.

"What friend?"

"Your Jewish friend."

"I have two Jewish friends."

"Gnat," he growled. She laughed at him, and leaned forward, hugging her book towards her a bit. She arched an eyebrow.

"Why don't you talk to Tali yourself?" she asked wryly.

Jess rolled his eyes stubbornly.

"Look, I know how you girls work – I just need you to hint that I'm decent – "

"Decent? You're – "

"You know what I mean," he said hastily. He flashed a charming smirk. "You know I'm getting my shit together," he added in a slow drawl.

That much was true; old delinquent habits were hard to break, but the new challenging environment – and Natalie's friendship – had been good for Jess, and he knew it. He arched a brow.

"I just need a nice girl to put the finishing touch on my reform – "

"Okay, okay – Jess? I'll invite you over the next time Tali's at my house – but you can't do her dirty, you got it? I've been friends with her longer than I've known you."

Jess had met Natalie's friend Tali David when Tali and Ziva, her older sister, had picked Natalie up from school one day. He was – for lack of a better word – smitten with the sweet Israeli-American, and he kept pestering Natalie to set them up. Naturally, Natalie was afraid of the effects on her friendship with both if that should go sour.

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way," Natalie began again, smacking her book. "Science project – jet fuel," she said bluntly.

"I put in the request for materials, and the proposal," Jess said lazily. "But as for trials – "

"Yeah, I got that covered, I'm going to use a forensics lab at my mom's work, and once we get closer to fair time, I'll see if I can get you a pass to come with me. Until then, you do the theoretical right ups, and I'll work on practical application."

Jess shrugged, and popped some gum.

"Sounds good."

Natalie narrowed her eyes at him warily.

"Why are you chewing bubble gum?" she asked suddenly.

"So I don't smoke a cigarette," Jess retorted, with a cringe.

Natalie grinned at him – he certainly was shedding street cred quicker by the minute. She pushed her hair back, and chewed on her lower lip.

"Want to study for that English test together?" she asked. She glanced at her watch. "Ooh, tomorrow though – Emily's taking me home in like twenty minutes."

Jess shrugged.

"Eh, maybe. I have some walls to graffiti."

"Jess."

"Kidding – I'm gonna spray paint a Care Bear on Dean's locker."

"You're incorrigible."

Jess rolled his eyes, and then leaned forward, very carefully tugging on the edge of the folded letter she used as a bookmark. Before she could protest, he yanked it out, opened it, examined it, and then peered at her over it with intent eyes.

"How come you keep re-reading this?" he asked brusquely. "You think it's gonna change somethin'?"

Natalie glared at him mildly.

"Wouldn't you re-read your dad's letters if that's all you had?"

"Old man never wrote me letters," Jess answered bitterly.

Natalie held her hand out, and Jess ignored it.

" _Bug_ ," he read aloud. " _I've counted six ladybugs since Tuesday_. _Even saw some_ _cicadas. They're loud, but it's nice to fall asleep to…."_ Jess trailed off, and held out the letter to Natalie. He laughed.

"That's a different one," he snorted. "Your old man some kind of idiot?" he joked. "Dear-Bug-lady-bug-pretty," he imitated, mimicking a caveman.

Natalie lunged forward and slapped Jess violently in the back of the head, trying not to show him she laughed.

"He wrote it to me when I was three, _dumbass_ ," she hissed.

She folded the letter neatly, and carefully placed it back in her book at a random spot, pressing it – this particular one was from Easter, nineteen eighty-eight, not long after she and her mother had moved from Stillwater to California. She had other ones –

"What's going on with that, anyway?" Jess asked blithely – he gave the impression of being cavalier, but Natalie knew he genuinely was interested in her and what she was going through, just like she cared about him.

Hell, maybe they were friends because they both knew what it was like to have an absent father.

Natalie sighed, frowning a moment as she looked down at the letter. She shrugged.

"I suppose we're at an impasse," she murmured finally.

Just before school started, a box had shown up on the doorstep of Jenny and Natalie's Georgetown brownstone. Sent by Melly, it had seemed harmless enough, and since it had been addressed to Natalie _and_ Jenny, _Natalie_ had opened it when she found it – on one of those days when Jenny was commuting back from Quantico.

In it had been a note - explaining that this was stuff Jenny had packed away and left at Melly's old apartment, the one they'd lived in and shared a room in when Natalie was a toddler. Melly was finally selling that apartment, and she felt it was best the things be returned.

But more than the note, Natalie had found much more important things – pictures of her father, that had disappeared after the move out of Melly's and never turned up again; pictures of him, holding her, playing with her, being present in Stillwater – and there were also letters, birthday letters, Christmas letters, random yearly letters – they tapered off until they finally stopped at some point in ninety-one – after Desert Storm, Natalie figured out – but the real kicker was that –

There was one Christmas card, from just ninety-seven, that had his phone number on it – and even more important, there was a small post card from November ninety-eight, the month of her fourteenth birthday – it was a post card from Paris, and it wished her a happy birthday, and it had a phone number again.

Needless to say, when Jenny had gotten home, Natalie had a thousand questions and her mother – blindsided, apparently, by the appearance of the things, had reacted so negatively that sometimes the fight still stung.

"Has she talked to you about it yet?" Jess prompted.

"No," Natalie muttered. She chewed her lip. "No, she always says the same thing – that she's trying to figure out how to explain it, or that she can't talk about it – I mean, what kind of awful thing must have happened?" she mused, almost to herself. "She always tells me he was a good father, but since she won't tell me about him – and now it's – well it's obvious she was – I don't know, hiding me from him, I guess – there must be _something_ he did – "

"Maybe he used to beat her."

Natalie shook her head.

"She would have told me that," she murmured. "She wouldn't protect his memory if he was abusive," she mused, sure of that. She grit her teeth, sighing, and tilting her head at Jess. "She swears she didn't know about any postcards or letters after Desert Storm, because she said the last time she talked to him was after Desert Storm, but _that's_ what _pisses_ me off – isn't that her fault, though?" Natalie demanded. "I mean, we moved, and she never told him, and she never asked my grandmother to forward mail, so she just…orchestrated a way to make it seem like she lost touch," Natalie trailed off.

Truth be told, she didn't know what the hell was going on, or what her mother's intentions had been – she only knew that during the confrontation, and Natalie's emotionally-charged explosion about the box, her mother had seemed genuinely miserable, and perhaps even fearful, and she'd deflected, deflected - deflected.

"You should push her harder," Jess suggested tensely. "You have a right to know."

"I know," Natalie said. "She thinks there's no point in getting into it because there's nothing – because she can't contact him, so it's just – " Natalie paused. "It's bullshit though," she said dully, shrugging. "I know how she could contact him – it's shady, but it would work; he hasn't paid child support in twelve years, all she'd have to do was make a complaint to the courts and they'd find him," she paused again.

Jess whistled, amused.

"Yeah," Natalie snorted quietly, agreeing with the whistle. "Yeah, I mean – I see why she doesn't want to do _that_."

Natalie had thrown that suggestion at Jenny, and Jenny had point-blank refused to make accusations in court; she told Natalie flat-out that she had refused child support payments, but Natalie just thought that was another way she could make a clean break – for whatever reason she'd decided to make a break at all.

Natalie pushed her hair back, and then lifted her father's dog tags and chewed on them for a minute. She let them fall, the taste of metal strange in her mouth, and swallowed.

"None of it makes any sense," she muttered, slightly hostile. "All of his letters are so sweet, I have – well, my memories are blurry, but they're all really good memories, and I think I missed him a lot when we moved away," she said – though her mother said she was making that part up.

"How come you're not giving your mom the silent treatment?" Jess asked simply. "I'd give mine hell if she was being that shady."

"She's making it very hard to be mad at her," Natalie said dryly.

"Is she?" Jess retorted, skeptical – his tone said it all; he couldn't believe Natalie would have any qualms about being mad at her mother. From his point of view, Jenny Shepard was being an evasive liar, not that he'd ever badmouth someone's mother to their face.

Natalie nodded serenely.

"She's being very – logical about the whole thing. As if she knows I'm allowed to be mad at her and still love her at the same time – well, really, it's as if she knows I have a right," Natalie worked out, tilting her head, "so, then I get angry, because if she's acknowledging I have a right to be angry, then what is she hiding? What do I not know? Did she kidnap me or something? Have we been on the lam? Or is it just that she thinks teenagers can be mad and she'd rather not tell me about him and let me think it was her? It's like…she acts like I have her blessing to be angry! But her being so…blasé? No – contrite or accepting is…it's making me feel bad about the anger," Natalie confessed, wondering if she was making any sense at all.

Every time Natalie reminded Jenny she was mad – mad that the box had been packed away and, most likely, deliberately forgotten, mad that Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a blacklisted topic, mad that there was a pattern of secrecy around the whole thing – Jenny just bowed her head, accepted it, and expected Natalie to continue to wait.

That's what Jenny had said, as their original fight died down – _wait, Natalie. Just wait. I'm trying to decide – what to do._

"Maybe she's psychologically manipulating you," Jess said cynically.

"No," Natalie said softly. "My mom isn't like that. She's very adamant about women having their own minds."

She didn't say it out loud, but a small part of Natalie knew that her mother's issues with the subject had more to do with Jenny herself than with Natalie or her father. She didn't know how she knew it; she just did.

"Ha," Jess snorted sarcastically. "My mother doesn't have her own mind," he drawled dully.

Natalie blinked, still thoughtful.

"I don't know," she sighed quietly. "I wouldn't know how to contact him, anyway," she said. "I think that's – Mom's unsure of what the point would be if I know everything and can't – find him, or maybe she knows he doesn't have any interest," she went on haltingly. "He has another kid. She told me my grandfather told her that."

Jess was silent.

"He never answered any of the phone calls?"

Natalie shook her head.

"Disconnected," she said.

She'd tried every phone number he'd ever included, from most recent to oldest – all disconnected, or assigned to different people.

"Bastard," Jess said, unhelpfully.

Natalie rolled her eyes at him, chewing on the edge of her dog tags again – she really was at an impasse with her mother about it, and she had no idea what was going on in her mother's head. She wanted to know why they had broken up, why he had faded from her life, why Jenny hadn't given her the letters, or let her grow up with them, or – she wanted answers, and Jenny just kept saying she wasn't ready yet.

And Natalie didn't know if it was self-preservation, or something darker.

Left to her imagination, she envisioned all kinds of macabre reasons why her father wasn't involved – despite Jenny's vague insistence that Gibbs was a good father, she wondered if there was something about him that just being a good father couldn't cancel out.

But then, desperately, she asked herself – _how bad could a nineteen-year-old Marine possibly have been?_

Grandpa Jasper had always referred her to her mother, so had Grandpa Jackson, and – somewhat less willingly – Melly – and Jenny had never, ever tried to marry anyone else; she kept men at arm's length; was that all for Natalie's sake?

Natalie shrugged to herself – a little confused irritation flared, and she swallowed it back down; she didn't want to let it start simmering again, because she didn't want to bring it up tonight – not when it was her mother's first week adjusting back at the Navy Yard.

She'd just let it sit. She was going to just let it – continue to simmer, like her mother had, until either Jenny finally sat her down and talked to her about it, or she had to start wearing down Melly to get anything she could –

Whichever came first.

* * *

It was dark outside – every year, Jenny hated the time change; it took her a month to adjust to the end of Daylight's Savings Time, and even as she sat on the phone with her mother, staring at a clock that clearly told her it was only six p.m., she felt like it was midnight.

"I still don't know," Jenny answered Melly. "You can always come visit us, Mom," she reminded her mother – Christmas, they were discussing Christmas plans

She rolled her eyes when Melly whined about Christmas on the cold east coast.

"Well, I want to come see you, but there's no way in hell we're going to – what, Tahiti? No. No, Mom," Jenny reiterated. She paused. "No, definitely not Thanksgiving," she paused. "Actually, Natalie wants me to take her to Stillwater," she admitted grudgingly.

Melanie made a mysterious, whistling noise.

"And where did that come from?" she asked her daughter.

"Where did – it came from _you_ , Mom, _you_ and your – _meddling_ ," growled Jenny, sitting forward – annoyed. She'd only talked to Melanie once since The Box Incident, and one of those times was to leave an angry voicemail and hang up.

"I was not meddling," Melanie maintained simply. "I sent things to you that belonged to you – "

"She would not have opened that if her name had not been on it," Jenny snapped. "You _wanted_ her to open it." Jenny broke off, gritting her teeth. "I don't know what you thought was going to come of it, Mom," she said edgily. "Now we're just living with a damn elephant – she named it, even. Natalie named the elephant in the room."

"Named it?" Melly laughed. "It already has a name – Leroy Jethro – "

"Actually," Jenny interrupted, kind of amused for a moment, "she named it Buffy."

"After the cheerleader?"

"After the father-less vampire slayer," Jenny said dryly.

Melanie made a prim noise, and Jenny ignored it; she grit her teeth again.

"Well, Jenny, I told you years ago this was going to blow up in your face."

"You don't even know what this is," Jenny said tiredly.

Melanie hesitated.

"You always say that, darling," she said finally. "You'd say it to me, to Brent, your father – now, to Natalie – you don't talk about it. How are any of us supposed to know?"

"If you don't know about something, why would you stick your nose in?" Jenny demanded, deflecting.

In a rare show of irritation, Melanie snapped:

"There was _nothing_ harmful to Natalie in that box, Jennifer," she said tensely. "If you think that girl won't understand why you left Stillwater, and why you chose to leave Leroy, then that has everything to do with your own guilt – not me, not him, not anyone else."

Mollified, Jenny fell silent. She sometimes forgot, because her mother was so carefree and childlike, that Melanie had a sage side to her that could almost never be argued with.

She pushed her hair back and leaned forward on her desk, eyes on the front door. Natalie should be home soon, and she didn't want to be caught talking about this – might make for a tense night.

"I just think it was subversive for you to open that can of worms," Jenny said hollowly. "I can't – I don't want to get into this with her, because my hands are tied. I can't magically contact him if she hears it all and decides she wants to pursue him. It will just hang over our heads – "

"You should have kept tabs on him, then, if you ever really intended to give her the right to reach out when she asked," Melanie said bluntly.

Jenny closed her eyes; she had no comeback. She didn't know why her mother had become so – concerned –about Natalie's father lately, but she didn't want to start in on that, either.

"You always have the court option," Melly reminded her – Jenny had, in disbelief, confided in Melanie what Natalie had suggested.

"My first contact with Gibbs in over six years is _not_ going to be a goddamn subpoena," Jenny growled.

She was not going to abuse the courts like that, and she sure as hell did not want to set the tone of reconnection with a legal ploy that she – _oops_! – dropped as soon as she got his attention.

She paused – she'd thought about it, what she'd do if she had to; but the idea of reaching out terrified her. She didn't want to have to meet Gibbs' perfect wife, and his perfect new daughter, and hear about how his life had gone exactly as he'd told her it was going to go; she was scared of what any of it would mean for her, her relationship with Natalie and – she just – she knew her decisions hadn't been perfect, but there had been _such_ a peaceful equilibrium before Melanie sent that box.

"I figure if it got down to the wire, I could manage to get access to military records through NCIS, and find out where he's stationed," she muttered – that was if Gibbs was even still in the service, and if she was willing to abuse her power and possibly be written up for it.

Melanie sighed softly.

"He might slam the door in your face, Jenny, but he won't slam it in Natalie's," she said gently.

"I know that," Jenny said simply.

Her mother paused, and Jenny imagined her thoughtfully pursing her lips.

"I don't know what to say to her, Mom," Jenny sighed finally. She closed her eyes lightly. "I just don't know how to explain it."

Melanie murmured in understanding.

"Well, you can't lie to her," she began logically.

"There's so many blanks I can't fill in," Jenny said, strained. "And the more I explain that, the more I have to explain that it's my fault, and she's just going to be so angry – "

"What happened to my bold daughter who was so confident in her decision?" Melanie pried sincerely. "Why do you suddenly think you're despicable for all this when you always very firmly believed you were doing the right thing – don't you think that you can tell the story fairly, and Natalie will understand - ?"

"No, I don't," Jenny said edgily, her voice cracking just slightly. " _No_ , because the older I get, the more – the more _mature_ I get, and maybe, this box, just seeing Natalie's eyes as she looks at this stuff and just – misses him without knowing what she's missing – the more I don't even believe what I was telling myself," she said.

It was difficult to get the words out, but it was true – as the years went on, her fears for Natalie, her stress over raising Natalie right, and making sure nothing was unstable in Natalie's life, had turned into fears that she'd fooled herself in thinking she and Gibbs couldn't work something out because – because it was all so much easier on Jenny that way –

Hell, she hated to admit it, but she half-hoped, a year and half ago, when she'd told Natalie Gibbs had a wife and daughter, that it would turn Natalie off to him; perhaps make her think he was just out of the picture for good. She felt awful about it – and she was getting too old to maintain the youthful selfishness that had justified all of her decisions back then.

Melanie sighed.

"You knew this day would come - your father knew this day would come," she added gently, knowing how much it still hurt Jenny that Jasper was gone.

Jenny winced, squeezing her eyes shut – she wished she had her father; she wished so badly that he hadn't been taken right as their relationship was mending; it was so cruel. It had the effect of making her think – so differently about her part in keeping Gibbs absent from Natalie's life – to miss out on the love of a father, when she had one who had – who had tried his best—

Jenny rubbed at her jaw, and opened her eyes. She took a deep breath.

"Natalie's not going to put up with this shit much longer," she said bluntly. "I wouldn't – I don't want her to; I didn't raise her to put up with people's shit," she said.

Melanie laughed.

"I just wonder – how badly it's going to damage her, finding out I'm the one whose been giving her shit – "

"Darling," Melanie interrupted, laughing musically. "You need to get back in the mindset you had all those years ago – at least explain where you were then, when you talk to her. Look, Jennifer – I see how you could be worried about this if you'd left Gibbs and then everything went completely wrong, but Natalie has had a brilliant life. And regardless of how Leroy's life turned out with this other woman – that doesn't mean it would have worked with you. You two were just – "

"Yeah, yeah," Jenny interrupted – too young, too foolish, too – too everything, and not enough anything.

She licked her lips.

"She won't let me read the letters," Jenny said thoughtfully. "I want – before I sit her down for this, I want to – I want to read what he wrote her, all those years."

"I know why you want to," Melanie said warmly. "But they aren't your letters."

Jenny accepted that grudgingly, which was why even when Natalie left them in the box under her bed, she didn't go looking; she had left them sealed when Jethro sent them, and she would leave them for Natalie now.

"It feels like it's been a thousand years," Jenny whispered.

She felt so old – and maybe, despite her fears, she was tired of this thing hanging over her head all the time.

But still - something held her back. And now – now it was that she didn't want to go there, because she was at a dead end with him – with Jethro.

Melanie took a deep breath.

"Well, the reason I called – other than to talk to you, darling, you know I love that," Melly drawled. "I was doing a final check in of the apartment today and – ah, there was a final postcard."

Jenny pursed her lips.

"What?"

Melanie cleared her throat.

"Yes – it's from him – and I didn't…well, I thought I'd run it by you before I sent it," she said dryly, "since you were very abusive to my answering machine over my last – what was it? Subversive maneuver?"

Jenny flushed, and rubbed her jaw again.

"From him," she murmured, half-ignoring her mother.

There had been a recent – _ish_ – post card n the box, too – what had changed; why was he – and she knew it was him, because suddenly, the cards Natalie had showed her in the box, the postcard – it was Gibbs' handwriting. It wasn't his new wife's.

"The postcard has a picture of butterflies," Melanie said. "It says," she began, and then paused for effect: _"Natalie –This is the only address I got for you, Bug. Can't figure what to say._ " There's a couple things marked out, Jenny – and a number," she said.

Jenny rubbed her lips together.

"What's the number?" she asked, her thoughts crashing together. Melanie read off the number, and Jenny shook her head. "What? No, read that again," she said. Melanie complied.

"That's," she paused. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Jenny, what on – "

"That's a northern Virginia area code," Jenny said warily.

Melanie was silent a moment.

"Darling – Fate is a bitch."

"Karma," Jenny corrected hoarsely. "Karma's the bitch."

"I think _Fate_ is a much more poignant word," Melly remarked.

Jenny swallowed hard. She was on the verge of taking a brave step, and asking her to repeat the number, when Natalie barged through the front door.

"Mom," she said decisively. "Yes – send that one to Natalie," she decided – and then after a swift goodbye, she hung up the phone. She got up, pushing aside the chair, and went into the hall.

"How was school?"

"Peachy keen," Natalie crooned, locking the door behind her. She tossed her long black hair back, and Jenny took a moment to give at a glare – the hair was because of the box – Natalie's one huge, dramatic defiance – she'd had Ziva David dye it for her, come home, and when Jenny freaked out, she'd looked straight at her, and said:

" _What are you going to do? Wait until my father gets home?"_

Jenny had shouted at her for five minutes for insolence, sent her to her room, cried for half an hour, and by the time they were up the next morning for work, neither of them mentioned it and their easy truce had started.

"Abby says you can come by her lab on Friday," Jenny said. "She's got court that morning, so she'll want some fun – and hey, there's a dog hanging around NCIS now," she added brightly.

"Aww, puppy," squealed Natalie. She crinkled her nose, and then started towards the stairs. "Okay, I have homework before I watch Buffy – Chinese take-out for dinner?"

Jenny nodded, chewing the inside of her lip. She smiled. Natalie paused on the stairs, and she looked at Jenny intently.

"Mom?" she asked, sensing something was up.

Jenny arched her brows.

"Chinese takeout," she agreed absently.

"Mom," Natalie repeated, stepping back. "You – are you ready to talk?" she asked clearly.

Jenny focused on her, and tilted her head. Very slowly, she shook it.

"No, Natalie," she said, a little huskily. "I'm – I'm getting there, Bug."

She willed her to be patient, be understanding, but she didn't exactly hold it against her when Natalie said:

"I don't believe you."

She said it very calmly, and very thoughtfully – and then she sighed, and shrugged. She didn't tell her mother she planned on calling both Melly and Jackson this weekend and bullying something out of them – even if she had to lie about Jenny telling her she could – because she felt like she was going to reach the breaking point before her mother did.

Natalie pushed her hair back, and pursed her lips; Jenny folded her arms, and hugged herself a little – she told herself if she could just get settled, just get through this week of work, she'd sit down and try to find the courage to – talk.

* * *

Special Agent Mike Franks was being driven half-insane by the presence of two probies in his bullpen – granted, one was McLane's responsibility, but the New Orleans native, with his constantly-sly sounding drawl, was annoying – and Franks' own probie, with his silence and his cold, blank eyes and his big, goddamn dog, were getting on his last nerve. Having no kids of his own – that he knew of – disciplining probies often reminded Franks why he had no interest in the practice of parenting.

Not that he'd bring that up or make any comparisons like that to probationary Agent Gibbs, since the whole reason Franks had agreed to take him on had a lot to do with the recent murders of his wife and child, and some slightly unsavory, possibly career-ending events that had occurred after.

Franks, however, spent a lot of time not walking on eggshells around Gibbs, and pointedly treating him like any other agent – because he sensed Gibbs was that type of guy – which was why he was currently berating Gibbs in the elevator again for bringing that _goddamn animal_ to work.

Gibbs, for one, was glaring blankly at his boss, waiting for an opportune moment.

"—not a blasted _zoo_ , Probie, it's a federal office building – damn dog tripped Charlene yesterday 'cause Pride was playin' fetch with 'im – and it ate my lunch on Tuesday – "

Franks continued, and Gibbs glanced down at Bugsy, who sat serenely next to him, her tongue lolling out. She thumped her tail affectionately when she saw him looking at her, and she cocked on ear up thoughtfully. Gibbs smiled at her a little – he'd told Franks, firmly and succinctly, several times: Bugsy went where Gibbs went.

Crime scenes and such were generally excepted, but Gibbs refused to leave the dog alone in that huge Alexandria house all day. Not to mention Bugsy was – comforting.

" – turn the place into a goddamn circus – and the hair just contaminates the lab, but Sciuto's on your side – what the hell is that?"

Franks broke off, glaring.

Gibbs had decided now was the opportune moment; he pulled a neatly creased note from his pocket, his features schooled, and handed it silently to Franks. His boss snatched it, opened it, read it quickly, and then lifted a truly magnificent glare to Gibbs.

"You got to be kiddin' me, Probie," he growled.

Gibbs blinked seriously, and then shook his head.

Franks read the note again.

" _Therapy dog_?" he quoted skeptically. "Probationary Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs is entitled to the presence of his _therapy dog_ during work hours," he read, eyes narrowing on the signature at the bottom. Samantha Ryan – well, that was legit; she was the in-house NCIS psychologist.

Franks squinted menacingly at Gibbs.

"Didn't peg you for the type to wear the therapy badge loud and proud," he spat sarcastically.

Did Gibbs really expect him to believe he was following his therapy regimen like he was supposed to? That was farfetched at best – Franks and Gibbs were kindred spirits, in some respects – hell, that was why Franks had agreed to take him in the first place.

Franks shook the paper aggressively.

"You're tellin' me you let Ryan shrink your head for a week just so you could get a note that sticks it to me about the goddamn dog," he growled.

Gibbs blinked at him in that slightly insolent way again.

"Yup."

Franks glared at him, and then after a moment, crumpled the note, and grinned a smug sort of grudging smile that bespoke respect. He shoved the note in his pocket and then looked down at Bugsy for a long time. He looked back up at Gibbs seriously.

"You're on thin ice, Gibbs," he said roughly. "You know why I said I'd take you, Probie?" he asked.

Gibbs shook his head – he knew very little about how he'd ended up at NCIS, truth be told. He'd thought, for half a second in Paris, that he was headed to Leavenworth, but Agent McAlister had stepped in, the Corps had brushed some things under the rug, and with a solid word from Leon Vance, Gibbs had been sent to a FLET-C training refresher course and posted to the Washington Navy Yard as a probationary special agent.

"'Cause I respect a man who doles out justice, even if it ain't quite on the right side of the law," Franks said stiffly. "Ain't many men like me'n'you left, boy," he said intently. "We're a dyin' breed, us who don't give a damn about the rights of criminals."

Gibbs listened, reaching down to place his hand on Bugsy's head. He gave a short nod – Franks didn't think he was unstable or out of control; Franks just thought he'd done what he needed to – which was more than could be said for a lot of others. If it weren't for one compassionate female MP who'd solidly placed herself in his corner six months ago, he might well be in Leavenworth instead of attempting to rebuild his life.

Franks turned on the elevator, and nodded curtly at the dog.

"Keep 'im away from me," he groused, a stern look falling over his face.

"Her," Gibbs grunted.

"What's that, Probie?"

"Bugsy's a _her_ ," Gibbs said.

As the elevator doors opened, Franks smacked Gibbs upside the back of the head with a menacing glare.

"What's it matter?" he growled. "Keep your bitch tame."

Gibbs followed Franks out of the elevator, Bugsy at his heels, and went to his desk. Franks smacked Pride's feet off his desk as he passed the other new agent, and then snapped at him.

"Get up, your _Majesty_ , we're goin' the interview those rape victims at Pax River," he snapped.

Ever since Dwayne Cassius Pride had made the lighthearted mistake of telling Franks and McLane that he went by the nickname 'King,' they had relentless mocked him with increasingly grandiose titles.

"Is Gibbs' goin'?"

"No," Franks said easily. "He's scared of women," he joked. "'Cept that one," he added, pointing at Bugsy.

Gibbs lazily moved his hand in a signal, and Bugsy crouched, flattening her ears and baring her teeth at Franks. Franks gave him a look, and Gibbs made another hand motion; Bugsy relaxed and wagged her tail, happy again. Gibbs had spent a lot of time with Bugsy in the past months – training her impeccably, almost to the level of bona fide Marine dog.

He planned on never telling her she was a Marine dog reject.

"You," Franks ordered, pointing at Gibbs. "Hold down the fort. McLane's in a classified meeting in MTAC."

Gibbs shrugged, and leaned back.

"And get that dolphin off your desk," Franks added, storming out with Agent Pride at his heels.

Gibbs put his hands behind his head and looked steadily at the glass-blown dolphin that was seated right next to his phone. As per usual, he ignored Franks – Franks referred to the figuring as 'that sissy thing' most of the time, and seemed to have taken personal offense to it.

Gibbs had found it in the airport in London when he'd been flying back to the U.S. for his court martial.

It reminded him of Kelly. It had the same soft blue hue her eyes had sparkled with, and it had a gentle little smile carved into its face. It was something he'd never have been caught dead with on his desk when he was a young, brash Marine back in the day – but things were different now; he held tightly to anything that helped him feel closer to his family.

Gibbs rubbed his wrist, where the frayed, braided red-and-pink yarn bracelet Shannon had made him before they were married still was, loose and worn, and often rubbing his skin dry and raw. He'd leave it there until they day he died, or until it fell off – if it fell off, he'd tie it to Bugsy's collar, like he had his last set of dog tags, the ones that had been with Kelly when she –

He closed his eyes tightly, his ears ringing, and opened them again.

He'd rather be out in the field. It was too quiet in the bull pen when everyone was out – quiet meant he started to think, to dwell, and no matter how much two psychologists had encouraged him to confront his grief and to – to feel it - he dreaded that crushing feeling that struck him when the world around him slowed down, and he avoided it.

It had been more than a year since their deaths in Paris, and it still felt like it was yesterday – fresh, raw.

Dr. Ryan had advised him to sell the house; she said it was making him worse – but he couldn't sell that house; it was Shannon's dream house. The psychologist the corps had provided after the murders – and to transition him to civilian life – kept telling him to keep in contact with the Fieldings, to share the burden of grief – but all he wanted to do was be alone, was –

He wanted to feel whole again.

He did things for them, every day. He thought about them, every day. He went through daily swathed in a thin coating of normalcy, putting up a stony, composed front, but everything, everything was really too fresh.

In manic bursts, he became obsessed with Natalie, with finding some way to contact her, but he couldn't bring himself to ask his father for help, and his hesitant attempts to reach out just seem to hit dead ends. When the manic bursts were over, he tended to recoil, afraid of contacting her, afraid he only wanted her because he'd lost Kelly – afraid he'd hurt her.

Bugsy licked her chops and lay down next to his desk, thumping her tail in a lazy, sleepy rhythm. Gibbs' eyes moved from the glass dolphin, to the wanted photos on the wall, to the clock, uneasy thoughts searching for something to settle on.

The whole last year was such a blur – such a blur.

A young intern ran through the bullpen. Without looking at Gibbs, he suddenly turned around and ran back, looking harassed.

"McGee!" someone yelled, exasperated.

Gibbs turned his head as the kid disappeared around a corner. Up on the catwalk, the assistant director was having a conversation with Agent Whitney Sharpe; she was leaving soon, returning to her home post on Los Angeles, with Vance. Gibbs had made a stop at the Vance's house on his way back from Europe.

He'd asked Jackie if she thought he should be reaching out to Natalie. Jackie asked him what he thought Shannon would say about it.

That was the thing: Shannon had always wanted it. She had always, always wanted him to fight for Natalie.

He wasn't afraid of betraying Shannon or Kelly in that respect, he was just back to where he started: on his own, everything ripped away.

Gibbs blinked.

The phone on his desk rang, and he leaned forward to pick it up, holding it loosely to his ear.

"Gibbs," he grunted.

"Uh, Gibbs? Yeah, is uh, McLane there, or someone?" a voice responded, sounding exasperated.

"No," Gibbs answered bluntly. "I'm here."

"Yeah – actually, yeah, you'll do," the guy said, and Gibbs narrowed his eyes, annoyed. "Yeah – wouldn't want to bother Franks with this," he added, as an afterthought. "Got a problem. Need an agent. You got a minute to come down to intake?"

"Who is this?" Gibbs asked. The voice had yet to identify itself.

"Corporal Strobe, at the main entrance."

"What's the problem?"

"Uh, there's a girl here with explosives."

Gibbs hesitated, taken aback – on one hand, explosives at the gate were a big deal; on the other hand, Strobe didn't sound exactly – worried. Just perturbed and slightly – confused.

"What kind of explosives?"

"The kind that haven't been put together yet," Strobe answered dully. "Look, I can't let her go anywhere without an escort, and I can't leave post," he explained. "She swears Sciuto knows her, but her bag alerted the dogs – "

"Yeah," Gibbs muttered.

He rubbed his jaw.

"On my way," he said gruffly – here he was, decorated Marine, federal agent, going down to the lobby to babysit.

He thought about putting in a call to Abby first, but he figured the guard had already done that. He gave Bugsy a signal to stay, and stay quietly, and then he took the stairs down to the first floor, vaguely curious about what exactly could be going on.

When he exited the security doors and strolled into the metal detector area where the guards were, there was tense argument going on – Strobe was looking through the contents of a bag, which he'd spilled onto a table.

"It doesn't make any sense that I would bring materials to assemble a bomb, get into the building, and then start building it. That logic is completely lacking – and, I'd need an incendiary, which as you can see – "

"Look, Miss? Explaining to me why the bomb isn't assembled is not helping your case."

"It's not a bomb! It's a science project – seriously _where_ is Corporal Shaunnessy?"

Gibbs, sliding his hands into his pockets, approached, his eyes on the long black hair of the woman currently arguing pointedly with Strobe. He came to a silent stop, and stood there for a moment; then he cleared his throat.

Strobe looked up, and looked relieved.

"Agent Gibbs," he said gruffly. "Here's what I've got – two aerosol cans, some label chemical canisters – "

"I have the check-out slips from my school!"

The woman turned around, and Gibbs immediately downgraded her from woman to girl – she was clearly a teenager, and nothing more. He felt slightly amused for a moment, and then caught sight of her blue eyes, and the feeling was gone – they looked so like Kelly's, so very like hers.

But – all blue eyes were starting to look like Kelly's now.

"She doesn't have an I.D. on her, either," Strobe said.

"I'm not even fifteen years old," snapped the teenager. "I don't have a permit for a few weeks –look, Abby knows I'm coming to do a science project here, and if you'd just call my mother – "

Gibbs broke in.

"Your mother works here?" he asked.

She turned to him again. She put a hand on her hip, and pushed her long black hair back, and then she stopped, blinking at him for a moment. She tilted her head, and Gibbs waited, turning and arching an eyebrow briefly at Strobe before he turned back.

Natalie Gibbs, for one, was suddenly struck by the eerie, irrational notion that she – that she knew this person. But – no, she was just used to looking at old pictures, so used to it, that with every second glance she thought she saw her father – besides, her father had dark auburn hair, not silver –

"Did they send you down here to _bond_ with me?" she asked brazenly, gathering herself – she didn't want to lose her stride; see, she'd counted on Corporal Shaunnessy being the guard – he loved her; he always just waved her through.

Gibbs lifted his shoulder silently.

"Bond?" he repeated neutrally.

She sighed a little tersely.

"My last name is Gibbs, too," she muttered.

Gibbs started suddenly, looking at her more closely. He didn't say anything for a long time, and then he turned to Strobe.

"Put her stuff in the bag. I'll escort her upstairs," he said.

"You have to sign – "

"I'll sign for her. I'll park her at my desk and won't let her out of my sight," he said firmly.

She turned her head to watch him while Strobe packed up her things, and handed Gibbs the visitor's log so he could do the appropriate things to register her with him.

"Gibbs, I really shouldn't let her take that bag – "

"Strobe, c'mon, you think she came to blow up a building her mother works in?"

Strobe blinked stubbornly.

"Dunno, some people hate their mothers."

"You hate your mother?" Gibbs asked her directly.

"No," she answered, in an odd sort of hush.

She clutched her backpack to her tightly, her lips parting slightly. She seemed – uncertain suddenly; afraid of him. Gibbs flicked his hand towards the door, beckoning to her. She hesitated, and followed him. He took her to the elevator, and put his hand on the door, extending his hand to let her on first.

"I'm not going to hurt you, kid," he told her.

She turned around, standing in the elevator, looking at him intently.

"I know," she said.

She sounded more confident than she felt.

Gibbs got on, and chose the floor for the bullpen – to his surprise, she'd already reached out to do the same, and she snatched her hand back. She rubbed her collarbone, and then grasped a necklace. He turned to look at her, trying to ease her discomfort – she must – she must think she was in huge trouble –

"What happened to all that hell you were givin' Strobe?" he asked. He tried to give her a soft look, but she was pointedly looking forward. "You're not going to go to jail," he said, conspiratorial.

She didn't say anything for a moment.

"I know that – none of these materials actually make a bomb; they make a flammable liquid, and I don't have a lighter," she said quietly.

"You know how to make something flammable?"

"Yes, but I wasn't going to light it here; just at school."

She paused, and then suddenly turned to him, her eyes very wide.

"I understand how terrible that sounded and I want you to know that it's for a science fair," she said – almost squeaked.

The doors opened, and he smiled a little.

"You must be a smart," he remarked.

She stepped off the elevator, chewing on her necklace, and stopped short. He almost ran into her.

" _Ew_ ," she breathed. "Why are the walls _orange_?"

"Been orange since I got here," Gibbs said, beckoning her towards the bullpen.

The teenager turned up her nose.

"You been here before?" he went on.

"It wasn't exactly a lie when I told that guy my mother works here," she said dryly.

Bugsy got up when she saw Gibbs approaching, and trotted forward. Unsurprisingly, she spotted the newcomer and let out a sharp, happy bark.

"She doesn't bite," Gibbs said, without adding that Bugsy only attacked if he gave a very specific order.

The teenager dropped her bag and crouched down.

"Oh, look at you," she crooned. "Mom said NCIS had a new mascot – look at you," she said again, scratching Bugsy's ears. She looked up, and then stood, folding her arms.

She looked at him uncertainly, and glanced around.

"Where's – Franks, and – McLane and … King?" she asked slowly.

Gibbs gave her an intent look.

"Out," he said shortly. "You know everyone here?" he asked, a little dryly.

Her eyes met his sharply.

"Well, I don't know you," she said edgily. Her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him. She started to say something, and then she reached up to pull at her necklace again.

That was the exact moment Gibbs realized it wasn't a necklace, it was a pair of dog tags on a bland chain.

He swallowed, his mouth dry. His gut twisted, but he just – he shook his head a little; this was absurd, he really was going crazy - there was no way –

She flinched, suddenly, as Bugsy literally jumped on her, putting his paws on her elbow. Impressively, she didn't move away, just flinched, and looked at the dog a little balefully.

"Get down, please," she said quietly.

"Bug," Gibbs barked, snapping sharply.

The girl leaned forward, and planted her hands on his desk.

"What did you call that dog?" she demanded.

He didn't answer her. Instead, distracted, he reached out and grabbed the dog tag that hung from her neck – gently, so as not to pull it. He didn't even have to read the whole thing.

 _Gibbs, Leroy Jeth –_

He looked up at her.

He held it for a silent moment, and then he dropped it like he'd been burned.

Feeling like he'd been clubbed over the head, he tried to clear his throat.

"What's – who's – who's your mother?" he asked hoarsely. "Why don't I try calling her extension – "

"Her name is Jennifer Shepard," the girl said intently, her eyes on him, "and I'm pretty sure she's about to have the worst day of her life."

Gibbs reached for the phone, dropping it once before he got it into his hand – but it wasn't necessary; wasn't necessary at all.

" _Natalie_! Jesus _Christ_ , Natalie – explosive materials? I thought you were making jet fuel, not a bomb – "

The girl – Natalie, Natalie Winter Gibbs – turned, pushing her hair back. She took a few steps forward, meeting her mother in the middle of the bullpen, and she shook her head, holding up her hands.

"Flammable, not explosive," she said, her voice shaking.

Jenny took her hands, squeezing them. She faltered suddenly.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Natalie, you look like you've seen a ghost."

"You tell me," Natalie said.

Exasperated, Jenny squeezed her hands, and sighed tensely.

"Honey, look, you're not actually going to get in trouble – I don't think – where's the agent they called – "

Gibbs placed the phone he'd been holding down gently, looking down at his desk. A thousand thoughts collided in his head as he tried to envision how this was going to go, how he was going to handle it – he'd look up, and he'd see her for the first time in – in years, and he just didn't know how that was going to hit him –

He looked up, and cleared his throat.

"That'd be me," he said, forcing the sentence out calmly.

In the silence that followed, Bugsy traipsed over to Jenny and sat at her feet. She barked.

Jenny was silent – a look of confusion crossed her face, then uncertainty, then dawning recognition – he supposed that was fair; he did look different – older – than when she'd last seen him. She shook her head a little, and then furrowed her brow in shock.

"Jethro?" she asked finally, pronouncing the name delicately, as if it weren't real.

"It _is_ him?" Natalie demanded, looking between them. Her hair whipped around her shoulders.

Jenny couldn't think of anything to say – her mouth felt dry, her tongue felt like lead – never in a thousand years had she expected this – she ignored Natalie and she – she blurted –

"What happened to your hair?"

Gibbs, his expression fixed, blinked a little, and reached up to touch it.

Natalie turned slowly to Jenny.

"Seriously – are you _serious_ , Mom?" she asked, appalled.

Jenny flushed, her hand rising to her jaw shakily. She touched her cheek, covering her mouth a moment, and then rubbed one of her palms against her slacks. She just – couldn't stop staring at him – his hair was so different though, Natalie would never understand – the silver, or grey, whatever it was polite to call it.

Natalie flew forward, standing earnestly near Gibbs, her hand on his desk.

"I _knew_ it," she said firmly. "I thought you – you looked familiar, you – well, I've been looking at old pictures lately, and your hair is – but it just seemed ridiculous that it would be you but – it is?" She picked up her dog tags, and rattled them. "You're Leroy Jethro Gibbs? USMC – are you?"

Gibbs looked at her for a moment, and clenched his jaw, inclining his head forward.

"Yeah," he answered gruffly.

She opened her mouth, catching her breath.

"I," she started. She reached out and touched his arm gently, her fingertips pressing into his jacket. "I still have Beary Smiles."

That – and why wasn't he surprised? – _that_ seemed to snap Jenny out of her monumental shock coma, and she took a step forward, a wary, anxious, and upset look on her face.

"Natalie," she said, controlling her voice. "Back off a little, give him some space," she said, tense. "Nat – "

Gibbs shrugged.

"I don't need any space," he said, a little sharply.

He saw a look of smug triumph flit across Natalie's face, though, and he immediately regretted it; the way to handle this was not by spitting in Jenny's face or stepping on her toes – not right now, not at first; he didn't – God, he didn't want an adversary, he just wanted to step one foot closer and hug Natalie so tightly that she felt ten years of him missing her –

But he couldn't move; he couldn't do anything.

This was Natalie, but this wasn't – but he didn't know her.

The Natalie he knew was…five-years-old.

Bugsy trotted over, wagging her tail, and licked Natalie's hand.

"Her name is – Bug? Is it after me?" She faltered a little, uncertain of how she felt – had she been replaced by an – an animal –

"Stop," Jenny spoke up, raising her voice. She stepped forward and took Natalie's arm, gently pulling her out from behind the desk. "Natalie," she said, looking at her authoritatively. "Abby is busier than she thought. I want you to go home."

Natalie yanked her arm away.

"You knew about this, didn't you?" she asked. "You knew he was working – "

"I did _not_ know," Jenny said sharply. "Nat, I am not messing around, I want you to go to Georgetown – "

"I don't want to," she snarled. "I'll stay right here," she said, pointing to the ground. "I'll stay with him until you're done with work – "

"You absolutely will not. This is my workplace and it is Jeth – Agent – it's his workplace, and you are not going to harass – "

"Harass? You think I'm – Mom, I just came face-to-face with my father for the first time since I was – I was – _I don't even remember_ and you want me to just – go home," Natalie shouted, "that may work for you and your stubborn promise to not give a damn – "

"Hey," barked Jenny, interrupting. " _Hey_ ," she said sharply. She paused a moment, letting the tone get under her daughter's skin. She took a deep breath. "Now? _Here_? Not the time, or the place," she said succinctly.

The only thing she was concerned with right now as protecting her privacy as well as Natalie's – was diffusing the situation and controlling the chaos of emotions so she could finish the day without dissolving into tears or hysterics or – or something worse she couldn't even fathom.

Natalie looked like she was about to start screaming.

Gibbs cleared his throat.

"Hey," he said, echoing Jenny. "Natalie," he said – God, her name felt so strange on his lips, even stranger to be saying it here, to her face. "S'okay. Listen to your mother."

She looked at him in shock, taken aback – clearly, she'd thought he'd take her side, and when he didn't – he realized she looked crushed, uncertain – confused. He hoped she didn't think – that he wanted her to go, it was just that he couldn't – this wasn't a good time, a good place, and he had never been good at gathering his thoughts or at anything emotional –

Natalie turned to Jenny again.

"You just want me to go home?" she asked, lost.

Jenny placed a hand on her shoulder.

"What the hell is goin' on in here?"

" _Ayyy_ , Jenny, how's it – "

King and Franks strolled back into the bullpen, and at that inopportune moment, McLane came jogging down the stairs, sparing a vague glance for Jenny.

"Hey Shepard," he greeted. "Nat," he added, with a familiarity that both confused and irritated Gibbs.

Jenny's face paled, and she pleaded silently with Natalie.

"It's just a few hours, Natalie. I'll be home in a few hours," she promised.

Natalie put her hands on her mother's shoulders for a moment.

"Are we going to talk?" she asked.

"Nat," Jenny said, through gritted teeth. "I'm going to – we're going to – something's going to happen," she said heavily – no promise, no – she couldn't promise anything, not until she knew what was going on – what she was dealing with.

Natalie gave her a hard look, and turned away. She yanked her backpack off the floor, jerked it onto her shoulder, and she left, without a second look at Jenny, or Franks, or any of the agents she knew – but with one look spared for her – for Gibbs.

Jenny watched her leave, wincing as Natalie chose the stairs over the elevator and slammed the door. She put a hand to her mouth and tried not to look at the others – Franks, who she'd known since Kate Todd had been murdered; McLane, who'd first hired her with NCIS – those two, who must be putting the pieces together –

McLane was the first to break.

"You're – Gibbs, _you're_ Natalie's father?" he asked, clearly having put the pieces together simply from the tension and the identical surnames.

Franks kicked his chair back, muttering a few choice swear words.

"So help me God, I leave this office for an hour and the whole damn place turns into The _Jerry Springer Show_ – "

Agent Pride could do nothing but stare in small confusion, and Jenny turned her back on them all – her ears were ringing, and her head was almost spinning, and she only found some kind of odd equilibrium by staring at Gibbs, her eyes on his, until she heard only silence, and she didn't feel like the room was tilting.

With Natalie gone, and the word blocked out, she pursed her lips.

"Jethro?" she asked again – that same delicate, hesitant pronunciation – no wild observation about his gone-silver hair now, just startled dread, or disbelief or – he didn't know what he saw in her eyes, but he knew, yet again, that a cataclysmic moment had just occurred in his life.

So he said –

"Should we skip the 'you haven't changed a bit' bull?"

* * *

"Oh, how I've dreaded  
this godforsaken day."  
-Miranda Lambert ft. The Pistol Annies; Run, Daddy Run

* * *

feedback appreciated !  
-alexandra

story #269


	2. Baggage Claim

_a/n: guys ! your response to the first chapter was so nice! we're diving right into the meat of the story so - hope you like your steak well done (lol i'm sorry i should delete that)._

* * *

Washington, D.C. and Metro Area: 1999

Baggage Claim

* * *

Home alone, with afternoon drawing to a close and the minutes until five ticking agonizingly slowly, Natalie sat restlessly in her mother's study. She situated herself on the floor near the fireplace hearth, a box between her legs – she'd been going over everything in it since she got home from NCIS, a million and one pressing questions assaulting her mind.

She'd tried calling Tali right when she got home, but Rivka David said she was still at soccer practice – she'd called Jess, but his mother said he was at detention – again. So she sat, and she re-read the letters she'd already combed for clues a thousand times, and she looked at the pictures and mementos, and she counted the agonizing seconds until her mother walked through the front door and Natalie could –

"Mom," she said sharply, thrusting everything into the box and getting up as soon as she heard the door open.

Pushing her hair back, she went down the hall, ambushing Jenny in the foyer – reaching her before the stained glass door could even be shut and locked. Jenny held up her hands, backing against the door a little.

"Natalie," she began.

Natalie folded her arms across herself, her mouth closing – she narrowed her eyes; this was a key moment, really. She had an inkling – a hunch – that her mother was going to try to put this off again, deflect it even now, and Natalie was just – she was so, so tired of being placated and – and –

She flicked her eyes towards the door.

"Is he with you?" she asked wildly.

Jenny looked at her like she'd gone mad.

"Is he – _what_?"

"You should have asked him to – I don't know, come to dinner, extended the option – " Natalie started, half-excited, half-uncertain – she didn't know what was appropriate, but Jenny probably didn't either – this wasn't a standard life experience, after all, so didn't anything go?

Jenny blinked at her, and then threw her keys on the table in the hall.

"Have you lost your mind?" she asked dryly. "I would not just – put him on the spot like that," she said tersely. She held up her hands. "Natalie, can you give me some space to breathe, just – give me a minute, come into the kitchen," she said heavily.

Natalie swallowed hard, and followed her, rubbing her arms. Her mother's heels clicked on the kitchen floor, and Jenny rubbed her forehead, her cheeks flushed red, two bright spots on her pale face.

"I'm trying to catch my bearings here," she murmured, closing her eyes a moment. She lowered her hand and looked at Natalie. "I want you to know, hand to God, I had _no_ idea he was NCIS, Natalie – I had no idea he was even in the United _States_ ," she swore. "The last I heard, he was in Paris, and he was still in the Marines. I swear, Nat. It's very important to me that you know that _. I did not know_ ," she enunciated emphatically.

Natalie swallowed – despite her slight wariness about anything her mother had to say – or, more accurately, not say – about her father, she could tell from not only the genuine shock that had been on Jenny's face in the bullpen but also from her adamant tone and expression now, that this much – his presence in the same city, the same _building_ – was not something Jenny had been hiding.

Convinced, Natalie nodded – but she wasn't silent on the subject.

"If you had," she began. "Mom, if you _had_ known – would you have told me?"

She thought it was a fair question, and Jenny's expression looked instantly both stormy and anxious, and she shook her head slightly, pursing her lips before she started to craft an answer.

"That isn't relevant – "

Natalie swallowed hard, interrupting with nothing but a shrug. That was really all she needed – any hesitation, any attempt to deflect the question, meant Jenny didn't really know if she'd have openly acknowledged his proximity if she knew about it, and that made Natalie nervous; it made her feel, right from the get go, that Jenny was not as open to Natalie having a relationship with her father – if it ever came up – as she'd always claimed she was.

"Never mind," Natalie said, for good measure. "Don't answer that. I want to see him," she said abruptly.

Jenny nodded.

"I want to see him, Mom. I want to talk to him."

"Okay," Jenny said, holding up her hands. "Okay, I'm not necessarily going to prevent that – "

"Necessarily?!"

"Natalie, please," Jenny said, a little edgily. "Calm _down_."

"Calm – I literally just ran into my absent father in the middle of your workplace!" Natalie exclaimed, eyes wide. "Exactly what definition of calm do you want me to operate on?"

Jenny put her hand to her chest, giving Natalie her own look of disbelief.

"You're not the only one who got a shock today, Nat!" she retorted seriously. "I get a call telling me you've got contraband in the building, they gave you to some agent, and I walk in to find _my_ high school sweetheart, your father, standing there with you?" she gasped, her voice shaking a little. "It was a god – a damn – it was an out of body experience! I haven't seen him standing that close to you since you were a baby – I know it was a shock for you, but Jesus, Natalie, I'm trying to process it as much as you are!"

Natalie threw her hands up.

"Well, thank _God_ you finally expressed some human emotion on the whole freakin' issue," she burst out, shaking her hands a little.

"When have I ever not – "

"You're always so cool about it, so detached – you were, before Grandpa Jasper died, before I decided to stop asking about him until that – that box," Natalie retorted quickly. "You never told me stories, you just answered questions and moved on – "

"It isn't a subject I like to talk about," Jenny said. "I know you don't have much in the way of memories of him, but I've got millions, and I didn't need to be using you as a confidant, or a sounding board, or a therapist – while I was trying to give you a childhood – "

"Okay, okay, whatever," Natalie interrupted, holding up her hands. " _Whatever_ ," she said sharply. "I don't want to talk about back then or what's already happened. I want to talk _now_. You've put this off for so long, Mom," she pleaded. "You've – you literally waited until it was right in your face," she continued shakily. "Are you going to sit me down, now? Finally? Have you – figured out how to say what you need to say?" she quoted, using some of her mother's own words.

Jenny took a deep breath, and put one hand on her hip. She held the other one up, almost like a traffic guard.

"I know what I owe you," she said tiredly. She felt distinctly like she had asked for this – her hand was forced. She took a deep breath, knowing Natalie wasn't going to like what she had to say next. "It has to wait. I have to go back to work – I have to monitor some systems for an Agent Afloat in Oceania – "

"No!"

"Natalie, it's not a choice, and you can at least wait until we've both slept on it and have clearer heads tomorrow – "

"No, you're doing this on purpose – you're avoiding talking about it. You're going to work so you can blow me off!"

"For God's sake, I didn't orchestrate an Oceanic emergency just to piss you off," Jenny snapped. "You know that sometimes things come up – "

"Don't you think this is the one time you could tell them your daughter comes first?" Natalie demanded harshly.

Jenny took two steps forward and took her chin in her hands, pinching lightly. She held her daughter's gaze, her own eyes narrow and hard – she felt like screaming, shaking Natalie for that – even the slightest suggestion that she'd ever, ever neglected Natalie in favor of work –

"Don't you _ever_ insinuate I don't make sacrifices for you. Don't you _ever_ tell me I don't choose you over work. I moved across the country to put you in a school you wanted to go to. I left everything familiar to me. And I'd do it a thousand times over just to make sure you are happy and you are in a good place. You have several reasons to be frustrated with me, Natalie Winter Gibbs, even outraged, but if you _ever_ stand in front of me and act like I ignore you in favor of my career again, I will find a way to make sure you know exactly how your life could have turned out if I only cared about myself."

Natalie grasped Jenny's hand – not out of fear, but gently, with a small squeeze – and stepped back, biting her lower lip – cowed and chastised. She nodded her head, wishing she could look away from that hard, authoritarian glare in her mother's eyes – but she couldn't; and she forgot her indignation for a moment, and felt ashamed, and guilty.

Two thousand miles – they were over two thousand miles away from Melly and Max and the community and friends Jenny had in California, the place she'd chosen to be, wanted to be, when she was just nineteen, and Natalie had the nerve to goad her with the single-working-mother card – she regretted it; she'd regretted it even before Jenny snapped.

"I'm sorry," she said – all sincerity; it was not an apology that came just because she'd been harshly put in her place. She flushed. "I'm sorry I – I know. You're always there. You're always there for me," she said, lowering her eyes a moment. She lifted them back. "Mom, please, then let me come back with you – I can talk to him, just small talk, hang out at his desk – Mom, GOD – "

When Jenny started slowly shaking her head, Natalie's calm beginning burst into a shriek of annoyance. She leapt back.

" _Why_ can't I just go have a conversation with him – "

"Because I need to talk to him first!" Jenny said, as calmly as possible. "I need to sit with him, as a parent, and discuss things with him – Natalie, he's remarried, he's got another child, I don't want you thrusting yourself into something that's going to hurt you – "

"But he sent the cards, the more recent ones! He wants to see me. I know he does – he has to," she faltered a little, remembering how quickly he – Agent Gibbs – had told her to listen to her mother, to go home. Maybe he didn't - ? Natalie shook her head, and stood firm. "Let me go with you back to NCIS," she demanded.

" _No_ ," Jenny said emphatically. "It's a workplace. It's not – it's not where we air our dirty laundry," she said flatly. She swallowed, and clasped her hands in front of her. "Natalie, please understand that this is so complex, it's not just a matter of sitting down next to him and catching up – I need to hear what he's been doing, hear what's going on, before I let you just run wild – I don't think he would ever intentionally hurt you, but with half-sisters and stepmothers involved I just –" she broke off, focusing on the storm in Natalie's eyes, and felt frustration rising in her – this time, this time it truly wasn't Jenny being afraid, or selfish – she was _worried_ about the clash of civilizations – to put it dramatically – that could come of this.

"Honey, at the very least – dammit, Whitney told me he's been dishonorably discharged from the Marines – that's not exactly an easy thing to do, they're the roughest bunch in the armed forces!" she said, raising her voice firmly. "Will you please, please try to understand that I am protecting you? That I am not going to let you walk into a situation I know nothing about? I will not put you – or him! – in the line of fire without a bulletproof vest!"

Natalie turned her face away, staring at the table. She reached up to wipe at her eyes swiftly, catching tears before they fell. She took a deep breath, swallowing, trying to understand that – maybe, on some fundamentally logical level, it did make sense that her parents get together and have a little adult heart-to-heart first, but she wasn't thinking logically.

Jenny stepped forward and touched her shoulders.

"Natalie, I only have to be back at NCIS for a few hours. I'll take care of the issue, I'll come home – we'll watch _Contact,_ okay? Then tomorrow, we'll – I'll," she broke off, unsure of what she'd do – God, she was so unsure of where to start.

She felt like everything was spiraling out of control, and for the first time in her life – for the first time since she'd promised Natalie, when she was three years old, that she'd never cry about Jethro, or talk about him, or fall apart about him, in front of her again – she was losing her grip on her emotions and on the entire narrative.

Natalie shook her head. She wiped her eyes again.

"No," she said huskily, pushing her hair back. "No, I'm – I'm going to go stay with Tali," she said, taking a deep, shaky breath.

Jenny started to say something, but Natalie shook her head again.

"Don't, okay?" she asked softly. "I don't want to be here right now. I want to go stay with Tali. I'm sorry, Mom," she said, her eyes stinging. "I'm so – I feel so angry at you," she said. "I need some space. I want to just … just let me go to Tali's."

Jenny considered her a moment, and then nodded, letting her hand slide off of Natalie gently. Natalie turned and escaped as quickly as she could, dashing up the stairs for her bag – it was packed already, and seeing it, she almost burst into tears. She'd packed it in case her mother let her down; in case she postponed the conversation even now. Part of her had hoped that wouldn't happen, and even if she did understand that Jenny had things to do at work – she didn't _care_. She felt restless and dissatisfied and lost.

She threw the few things she still needed into the bag, and then, downstairs, stopped to take the box and everything in it with her, as well. She set them both by the stairs, and tied her hair up as she reached for her purse and rummaged for her bus pas – to get to Tali's on her own, it was a metro ride to Alexandria, and a bus ride to the David's neighborhood.

"Let me drive you," Jenny offered.

Natalie shook her head.

"We'll just fight more," she said. "I hate fighting with you." Rubbing her face again, she turned and looked at Jenny desperately. "It doesn't seem like it, but it makes me miserable," she confessed.

Jenny blanched, coming forward to rub her arm.

"I don't like it either," she said. She clicked her tongue. "I just don't want his wife to slam the door in your face or something – "

"Stop," Natalie said hoarsely. "Stop, stop _talking_ about it. We're just going to fight about this Mom, we just _are_ ," she whispered tersely. "It's okay for people to fight – it's not the end of the world, we both know that."

So often though Jenny was afraid it was – she had never been good at repairing relationships; Gibbs was the prime example, but even her relationship with her father had never recovered after she'd gotten pregnant, and that had as much to do with Jenny's attitude after leaving as it did with his refusal to forgive.

Natalie wiped her face, and picked up her things, starting for the door.

"I'll come home when I'm level-headed," Natalie said bravely. She paused at the door, and looked at Jenny. "I can handle it," she said earnestly. "Whatever it is, whatever happened – whatever the story is _, I can handle it._ "

Jenny looked at her thoughtfully, sadly, for a long moment, and then she sighed, pushing her own hair back anxiously, her eyes flickering.

"Natalie," she murmured, her voice strained, raw. "Did you ever think that it's not that I think you can't handle it," she said, "it's that I don't think _I_ can?"

Natalie's heart skipped a few beats, and she caught her breath, uncertain - -she almost slammed the door and stayed home, but what was the point in that, if Jenny was just going back to the Navy Yard, and she'd be left to wallow, and work herself up again – and probably pick another fight when her mother got home later.

The little moment of weakness, the confession – it intrigued Natalie, but it also just gave her a sense of dread, of dull suspicion – the fear of being betrayed, or lied to – or maybe, the quiet fear that once she knew the history, the facts, she'd wish she never knew any of it at all.

She just compressed her lips, a little sympathetic, a little perturbed, and left, closing the door lightly behind her – she didn't slam it, because that wasn't the point she wanted to make. She was down the driveway, though, when Jenny came out after her, jogging up, catching her bag and pulling her back.

"Natalie," she said.

Exasperated, Natalie gave her a look.

Jenny ignored the look. She put her arms around her in a quick, tight hug, that she hoped said a thousand things she couldn't right now – she didn't want Natalie leaving so angrily that they didn't speak, because if something happened and the last moments they had together were angry ones, she'd never forgive herself.

"I love you, Bug," she said – she promised.

She pulled back, pushing Natalie's hair back, and then nodding, as if to say she was free to go. Natalie nodded, her face relaxing just a little. She hesitated, trying to find something to say before she left – and what she settled on, strangely, surprised her.

"Mom?" she asked. "How did you feel when you recognized him?"

She wanted to see if she could get an honest answer – an answer that wasn't calculated or deflected or planned – and Jenny seemed so startled by the raw question, that she paused, and she clearly had no time to come up with something. Her answer was succinct, and she suddenly felt how absurd it was, that in an instant, it had felt like all the maturity and wisdom she'd gained in her life had been ripped away and she was just –

"Like I was fifteen," she said, swallowing hard. "I felt like I was fifteen again." '

It wasn't a nostalgic feeling, it wasn't a feeling with a good, rosy tingle – she felt the exact same way as she'd felt the day she found out she was pregnant, and Gibbs had promised he was going to take care of her, and even then, she hadn't had faith in them. She felt small, scared, and uncertain – and now, just like she had when she was fifteen, she had to overcome all those feelings for the sake of her daughter.

* * *

Alone in the lower levels of the NCIS headquarters building – the techno cave, she had nicknamed it – Jenny sat monitoring two computers, her eyes veritably burning due to how hard she focused on the screens. Even when she took a drink of coffee, she didn't look away – and she knew, deep down, that this kind of scrutiny was absurd; the Agents in Oceania had needed her consultation and a second pair of eyes, nothing more – but she felt like if she stopped focusing on this, she'd break into a thousand pieces.

It was a relief that Charleston and Kirk weren't here – not that they would be; they worked shifts that started at six a.m. and ended just after noon, unless she needed them. McGee worked whenever he wasn't in class or working a side job he actually got paid for – which meant sometimes he came in in the evenings, but he hadn't tonight – which was good; Jenny just would have sent him home.

When she'd returned to work, she hadn't even gone up to the main level, just in case he was still there.

When she'd left earlier, at about four-thirty, she'd gone up there – but he wasn't in the bullpen; it was just the dog, playing fetch with Agent Dwayne Pride. Bugsy had run up to her and rubbed against her legs, but it had made her nervous – Bugsy, for God's sake – had he _really_ named his dog after Natalie?

She took another sip of coffee. She heard someone come into the room, and saw a shadow move out of the corner of her eyes – then, a few moments later, another shadow prowled in slowly. After a moment of silence, during which only the whir and hum of the computers was heard, she rolled her eyes to herself, tore her gaze away from the screens, and swiveled around slowly.

"Can I help you boys?"

Unsurprisingly, McLane and Franks were standing there. McLane was pointedly pretending to inspect a filing cabinet, and Franks was just looking at the back of her head – well, now the front of her head – with unabashed interest.

"Just comin' to say goodnight," McLane said breezily.

"And ask what the hell that was up in the bullpen, earlier," Franks said bluntly.

McLane kicked the back of his foot and glared at him. Franks shrugged.

"Dan, we're like fathers to her," he said, with a sly grin. "We got a right to tease."

"I had a father I was perfectly satisfied with," Jenny said dryly.

"We're, uh, lookin' to protect the integrity of our team cohesiveness," McLane said seriously.

Franks blinked at him.

"That's the sissiest goddamn thing I ever heard you say," he growled.

McLane looked tempted to stick his tongue out.

Jenny stared at them a moment, and then raised her eyebrows.

"What is this, the _Golden Girls_ – guys?" she snorted dryly. "Coffee Talk with Linda Richman?"

"Who?"

"What in the goddamn hell is that, Shepard?"

She rolled her eyes.

" _Saturday Night Live_ , Mike Myers – _like buttah_?" She paused, and at the blank looks on their faces, she shook her head. "Forget it," she muttered. She leaned back, and folded her arms, looking at them both critically. "You came down here to gossip," she stated matter-of-factly. Silently, she ordered them to admit it.

Franks shrugged, and McLane held up his hands guiltily. Jenny couldn't really blame them. McLane, despite his early aversion to women, electronics, and the fact that Jenny had a child that was constantly demanding more of her attention, had become a truly valuable mentor, someone who was always in her corner and ensured she was respected by setting an example of respect towards her. Franks, despite his carefully constructed irreverent persona, was a good man who, remembering her from the Kate Todd case in ninety-four, had personally welcomed Jenny to the Navy Yard office and accepted her without his usual sexism and skepticism.

She loved and trusted them both, though cautiously, for now, she wondered what Gibbs had told them – what they knew.

She sighed, looking down at her feet for a moment, and then she looked up.

"How long has he been here?"

"Here?" McLane asked. "The Navy Yard, or the agency?"

"Both," Jenny decided tiredly.

"Huh," grunted McLane. He squinted.

"NCIS since, hell, about February," Franks said, picking up the slack. "Been here since August."

Jenny's mouth fell open.

"August? I – _August_?"

Granted, she had been at Pax River, Quantico, and Norfolk basically all year – but to think that he had been so impossible close all these months and she'd never noticed, never even really heard.

"Yeah, he came in with Pride, but he only did two weeks at FLET-C, to refresh Marine training," Franks said. He folded his arms. "Your turn," he said.

Jenny pointed at him sharply.

" _Fuckin'_ gossip," she accused triumphantly, narrowing her eyes. She looked between them. "There's nothing to tell."

"Ha," snorted Franks. "Try again."

She grit her teeth. She unfolded her arms, and threw her hands up. She didn't know where to begin – what to say – and she certainly wasn't about to spill her guts to these two, much as she trusted them, when she hadn't even got her own thoughts straight. She put her hands out, her palms facing them.

"Look, guys – I haven't even talked to my daughter about this; you're not gettin' a word out of me about my personal life," she said grudgingly. She shot a look at McLane. "Don't you want me to keep my female problems at home?" she asked, a little wryly.

"HEY!" he snapped. "I haven't made a comment like that in – two days."

"Wow," Jenny said, deadpan. "You're really changing the world there, Dan."

McLane grimaced at her, and Franks cleared his throat.

"So, what's the story?" he demanded. "Did Gibbs know you had his kid?"

Jenny blinked at him, startled.

" _What_?" she snapped. "Of – of course he _knew,_ " she said, scandalized.

"She ever met him before today?" McLane ventured.

Jenny glared at him.

"I – _yes_. Guys, I was sixteen when she was born. There was not much subterfuge going on," she said, exasperated – and a little horrified at the thought of blatantly not telling someone they had a child. She snorted a little. "Believe me, when the only person who doesn't think you're a ruined slut is your boyfriend, that's the person you hang out with all the time," she added dryly.

Franks raised his eyebrows; McLane shrugged.

"Can't blame us," he said. "We didn't know Gibbs had a kid."

Jenny raised her brows.

Franks cleared his throat.

"Well, didn't know he had an older one," he corrected vaguely.

Jenny felt a pang of discomfort, and swallowed, crossing her arms across herself protectively. She eyed them both warily, and then pursed her lips.

"Agent Sharpe told me Franks' probie was dishonorably discharged from the military," she said carefully. She fixed her eyes on Mike. "Was she talking about Gibbs?"

Franks grit his teeth a moment.

"He's my probie," he allowed evasively. "Don't know if I should get into that stuff with you."

Jenny's eyes flashed.

"You come down here to badger me about my personal life and you want to protect – "

"S'not just that," McLane said hastily, fending off Jenny's temper. He hesitated. He glanced at Franks, and then he cleared his throat. "He wasn't _exactly_ dishonorably discharged," he said slowly.

Jenny frowned.

"What, then? Big chicken dinner?" she asked – it stood for bad conduct discharge; one step below the really reprehensible one. She'd learned the lingo from her father, years and years ago, when he was still in the Army.

"No," Franks said shortly.

Jenny compressed her lips, feeling lost – what would make Whitney think he'd been –

"He _was_ court martialed," McLane said finally. "He was on his way to a bad conduct discharge, yeah. But some MP mitigated his circumstances and got him a real barracuda lawyer, outside representation," he explained. "A superior pulled some strings, charges got dropped, and he was, ah," McLane tried to find a way to put it diplomatically.

"Ordered not to re-contract," Franks said bluntly. "Forced retirement. But it's listed as an honorable discharge," he added firmly – that was important, he felt, for Shepard to know, especially since in Frank's mind, the fact that Gibbs had been court martialed for his act of justice at all was absurd.

But the world wasn't run by cowboys and vigilantes, as Mike had come to find out.

Jenny swallowed hard – she tried to imagine Gibbs, the Gibbs she'd known, ever doing anything to warrant a bad conduct discharge from the Corps – the Corps he'd loved so much, he'd never given up on it, even when it tore them apart. Whatever had happened, it must have broken his heart to be told to get out.

She leaned forward.

"Okay," she said quietly. "Why?" she asked sharply. When neither of them answered, she inclined her head. "Why was he court martialed?"

"Look, Jenny," McLane started.

Franks cleared his throat.

"Ain't here to get into his career," he said callously. "Besides, Dan and I can't tell the damn story, we don't even have access to the part that triggered the court martial," he grumbled – Franks knew the gist of what had happened; something had happened that had resulted in the death of Gibbs' wife and younger daughter, and both Gibbs and the NCIS Paris agents accused the CIA of wrongdoing. But Franks and McClane had no more information than that – they didn't even know the real name of the CIA operative Gibbs had gone after.

"Then why are you here?" Jenny asked crisply.

"'Cause," Franks said blithely. "Gibbs went home."

Jenny furrowed her brow, as McLane nodded, rubbing his jaw.

"Yeah, picked up and went home, right at five," McLane whistled.

"I'm failing to see why Jethro going home at quitting time is so earth-shattering," Jenny said dully.

"Probie never goes home," Franks groused flatly. "He's here at five a.m. and he leaves after twenty-one-hundred most nights," he told her. He paused. "And the goddamn dog goes wherever he goes."

Jenny's lips turned up a little, but something didn't sit right about that – why was he here all the time, for so long, day in and day out, if he had his wife and daughter to go home to? That didn't bode well to her – and if Gibbs was having some sort of marital trouble, she definitely was going to be cautious about letting Natalie get into the middle of it – a long-lost daughter would just add strain to a marriage if it was already tumultuous.

She closed her eyes a moment and sighed, feeling the desperate urge to talk to her mother – she'd have to call Melanie, tonight, and tell her everything, really panic and cry, before Natalie came home from Tali's tomorrow.

"—you say to him?"

Jenny's eyes flew open.

"Pardon?"

"What'd you say to him?" Franks asked again.

"To make him go home like that," McLane prompted with interest.

Jenny glared at them both.

"I swear to god, this is a whole new side of you two – really, what in the living hell," she grumbled, and then narrowed her eyes. "Once I got Natalie to leave, I barely said anything! I just – I was so – "

Shocked. So taken aback, and so unprepared, and so – unsure of what to do – she'd just stared at him, waiting to say something, but truly unable to think of anything remotely appropriate; so she'd stood there, while McLane, and Pride, and Franks tiptoed around, and Franks blustered, and he just looked at her intently, until he'd quietly remarked that he didn't remember her ever not having something to say.

Then Pride had thrown a toy for Bugsy, the dog had charged at Franks and nearly knocked him over, and in the chaos of Franks roaring and McLane trying to keep him from literally strangling the animal – Jenny had gotten out of there before she actually stopped breathing.

"What's with the dog, anyway?" she asked softly, blinking herself out of her reverie. "Is he training it? K-9?"

A dark, brooding look came over Franks' face.

"No," he snapped. "It's his girlfriend."

Jenny arched an eyebrow. McLane rolled his eyes.

"He's got a weird thing about the dog," McLane said warily. "Claims she's a therapy dog."

Jenny laughed sharply.

"As if a Gibbs male would ever admit to therapy," she drawled.

McLane tilted his head with interest.

"You know other Gibbs males?"

Jenny gave him an annoyed look.

"I do – Jesus – I went to high school with Jethro, I got knocked up, we barely graduated, we damn near got stuck in Boondocks, Pennsylvania," she listed. "I haven't seen him in six years and I know," she said, leaning forward sharply, "that he's married," she revealed tightly. "You don't have to hide that."

Franks and McLane looked at each other, and neither said a word. Franks shook his head a little, and then gave Jenny a searching look.

"This gonna affect your work, kid?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to answer, and then she just shrugged, compressing her lips.

"Quality? No," she said. "I can't promise my attitude won't be affected," she confided, with almost raw honestly. "And I can't speak for him."

Franks pointed at her squarely.

"Seems like you damn well better start speakin' to him," he said abruptly – and to Jenny's surprise, he strode out, and left her sitting there, with McLane looking a little harassed.

Jenny clenched her teeth and said nothing – she knew that; she knew she had to talk to Gibbs. She just didn't know where to start, or how to approach. She supposed she could reach out casually and leave the ball in his court, that way it wouldn't seem threatening – but she didn't think Natalie would just patiently wait, and she needed to be able to convince Natalie that she really was trying to handle this correctly.

There was no point in doing any more damage now, now when Natalie was fully old enough to – well, she could make her own decisions about it, to an extent.

McLane rubbed his jaw again, and then jerked his thumb towards the door.

"So, I'm gonna go," he said.

Jenny gave him an exasperated glare, and rolled her eyes. She started to turn to her desk, and then, taking a deep breath, she turned.

"Actually," she said, and her voice came out hoarser than she expected. "Dan, would you – can I have his home phone number, please?" she requested. She cleared her throat. "No romance, no girly crying, I swear," she said, half-heartedly teasing. "I need to do right by my daughter," she said honestly.

McLane didn't say anything. He strode to McGee's work station, squinted a moment, and then recorded something, and handed it to her. She pursed her lips when she saw it was an address, and looked at him curiously.

"Don't remember it," he said gruffly. "Only ever page 'im – but I been to his house, and he's in the phone book," he told her seriously. "Under Gibbs. Alexandria, Virginia," he advised.

Jenny nodded, laying the piece of note paper down gingerly, as if it would burn her. McLane started to leave, and again, she stopped him.

"Dan," she called.

He looked at her expectantly. She hesitated, and then plowed on, an intent look in his eyes.

"Why was he court martialed?" she asked again, very quietly – without menace.

"It's his business, Shepard," McLane said warily.

"Dan," she said again, seriously. "I have a child to protect," she reminded him simple. "I want you to give me something."

McLane hesitated, and then he glanced behind him, and with a frown, he turned back to Jenny.

"Aggravated assault," McLane said heavily. "There was a violent altercation with another embassy employee while he was stationed in Paris, last April." McLane paused a moment. "The victim was hospitalized for weeks."

Jenny swallowed hard, her cheeks turning pale – despite the gravity of McLane's tone, she hardly believed it. She'd never known Gibbs to be violent – aside from the fact that he'd become a scout sniper – but never in her life would she imagine Gibbs to be the type to – injure someone so badly it damn near ruined his career.

"Look, Shepard," McLane said tensely. "I'm not gettin' into his personal life with you, but the assault thing," he paused darkly. "From what I understand, from what I heard – it was justified. Bastard deserved it."

McLane looked at her for a moment longer, and then he left – left her alone in the basement, with the whirring, clicking machines, and a jolt – a jolt as she checked her monitoring systems to make sure Oceania didn't need anything, or nothing was amiss, and a jolt as she tried to fathom what could possibly make McLane absolve Gibbs of any wrongdoing for a charge as serious as aggravated assault.

Conflicted, she looked at the address McLane had written down for a long time. She got up and went into her office, rummaging around a few boxes until she found a brand-new phonebook, agency issue, which she hardly ever looked at – because she just ordered McGee to get phone numbers she needed. She found the Gs, found Gibbs, Leroy Jethro, and stared at the phone number so long that she memorized it on the spot.

 _Gibbs, Leroy Jethro and Shannon. Laurel Street, Alexandria._

She was afraid if she called, she'd get his wife. She was afraid if she didn't, she'd provoke Natalie into total rebellion, and while dyed-black hair was something Jenny could reconcile herself to, anything truly destructive terrified her, and she wouldn't let it come to that.

She sat down at her desk, forgetting the computer programs for a moment, and picked up her phone. She twirled the cord in her hand, started to dial, and then hung up. She repeated that process three times before she finally steeled herself, and firmly punched in the whole number – she just had to call him, make initial contact: she didn't have to analyze her feelings right now, or make amends, or have a true heart to heart, she just had to establish that Natalie wanted to see him, and that before that happened, if that happened, there were things she needed to know.

The phone rang endlessly, and finally, finally – the machine picked up with a dull click.

At the sound of a woman's voice, Jenny caught her breath.

" _You've reached the Gibbs residence. Neither Shannon nor Jethro is available. Please leave a name and number and one of us will call you back. Thank you."_

The quick pause, and then the long, tell-tale beep, gave Jenny almost no time to collect herself from the shock of hearing Gibbs' wife – so for a moment, she sat in silence, breathing quietly against the receiver, momentarily have forgotten what she needed to say. She swallowed hard, flushing – and settled on something as simple as possible, something unthreatening.

"Hello, Jethro. It's Jenny," she paused; she didn't think she needed to leave her last name. She sighed, and gave up trying to sound professional, or put together, or smart. She took a deep breath. "I'm not going to keep her from you. I'd like to know some things first. You can make the next move."

She left her home number, as well as her pager number, and she hung up so quickly, and so violently, it was as if the phone had physically burned her. The slam of it back in its cradle made her flinch, and she leaned forward, running her hands though her hair, tightening her fingers, and closing her eyes. She held her eyes closed until she felt dizzy, and then she opened them slowly, got up, and steeled herself to continue her work for the next hour or so.

Every single small noise startled her, and set her heart racing; she felt like she'd been living in a house of cards since nineteen eighty-seven, and it was about to collapse.

* * *

Tali David had a phonebook in her lap and her tongue between her teeth. Very carefully, and in support of her best friend, she searched through the G section of Arlington, Virginia to see if that was possible where Natalie's mysterious father resided – she'd already been through Burke and Annandale, as well as Chantilly and Woodbridge. Natalie herself had her eyes glued to a D.C. handbook – she'd already sped through all the most likely neighborhoods in southern Maryland that might yield a reasonable commute to the Navy Yard.

"Remind me again why his address isn't on the postcards?" Tali asked, as she flipped from Arlington to Alexandria, licking her lips.

"The most recent post card came from Paris," Natalie murmured, narrowing her eyes at a Gibbs in the Capitol Hill area of D.C. – nope, the name was Leonard Smith Gibbs, not Leroy Jethro. "At least, the most recent one I have. Assuming my mom isn't squirreling more away," she said dryly.

Tali looked up thoughtfully.

"Would she really? Even after the box?"

Natalie shrugged.

"No," she admitted – that she was fairly sure of. To a certain extent, she even believed her mother hadn't actively, at least not in any malicious way, been hiding the past mementos of Natalie's father; she had just deliberately forgotten them.

"Well, if he's not in Alexandria, I don't know what to check other than Quantico," Tali said with a small frown.

"He's not in the Marines anymore," Natalie said, sighing in frustration as she closed the D.C. phonebook – hours, she'd been at this for hours. "He can't live on base," she stated.

Tali chewed on her lip, and Natalie sat back against her friend's bed, leaning her head back against it – she had enlisted Tali to help her try to sleuth out the address for Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and if this phonebook scheme didn't pan out, she was going to call Abby and get Agent Franks' phone number and demand it from him, and if Franks told her mother, then so be it.

The thing was, she was tired of waiting for her mother to make a move, and after an hour or so of tearful explanations to Tali and Rivka, a feeling of hopeless frustration, some wallowing, and some truly exhausting deliberation concerning whether or not she would take her fate into her own hands, she'd settled on a new resolve.

A resolve which included finding her father's address, and ambushing him. She didn't like the word _ambush_ , and she didn't want to make a bad impression, but Natalie had a good gut instinct, and she very strongly felt that Gibbs would not be angry with her for reaching out – and tangential to that, she didn't think his wife – her stepmother, she supposed – would mind; after all, Shannon Gibbs was the one who had been writing the holiday cards for so long. She must not be against the idea of Natalie – _right_?

Natalie sighed, and grit her teeth, blinking at Tali's ceiling.

"Why don't you call your grandfather?" Tali asked.

"Because, he'll call my mom," Natalie said – actually, she didn't think he would, but she knew he wouldn't tell her, because in the past, he'd always just redirected her. "Besides," she muttered, "from what I understand, Grandpa Jack literally hasn't seen my father since eighty-seven."

Tali looked up, eyebrows raised.

"And you can't call Melly because…?"

" _She_ might call my mom," Natalie retorted warily. "I swear to God, I hope he turns out to be a mass murderer, or else the amount of insulation my mother has installed around me regarding Dad is absurd," she said wildly.

"As someone whose brother actually turned out to be a bona fide mass murdering terrorist," Tali said dryly, "I promise: you don't want that."

"Sorry, Tali," Natalie offered, wincing. She sighed. "I don't even know how to talk about him. Dad? I can't call him _Dad_. That's – weird, right? But I can't call him _Jethro_. I guess I should just call him Gibbs," she mused to herself.

Tali looked up again, taking a break from her search. She studied her friend intently. Besides Jess, she was the only person Natalie had confided in about what was going on – they were two good people to have, naturally; Jess also had an absent father, and despite the fact that Tali's father had left the Mossad after the debacle with Ari Haswari, Rivka had never forgiven him for his infidelity or his radical and sometimes violent opinions. He lived in France, and Rivka rarely allowed her daughters to speak with him.

"You think your dad is a good guy?" Tali asked earnestly.

Natalie looked at her nails. She thought about it quietly.

"Yes," she said, after a moment. "I have good memories of him."

"You do remember him?"

"Yes," Natalie said again. She scrunched her nose and brows. "The weird thing is, I don't remember my parents ever fighting," she said. "The most distinct memory I have of a fight of any kind is my mother fighting with my grandfather – Jasper. But even the last time I saw my dad, when he gave me the teddy bear," Natalie shrugged, pursed her lips, "if they fought, I don't remember it."

"You have any idea what happened with them? You parents?" Tali asked.

Natalie sighed, and turned to her.

"I have _no_ idea, so I come up with all these theories," she confided, laughing a little. "Like, when I was little, my favorite was that he was basically a spy, so he had to pretend he didn't have a family – but you know, once I started realizing bringing him up makes my mom sad or upset, I got wise – it's something more average, I'm sure," she sighed. "I think," she said, shrugging. "I think…he probably just…was too young or, I don't know, only wanted to do the easy stuff, so my Mom let him off the hook, and doesn't want me to know he gave up or something."

Tali shrugged a little.

"Occam's razor," she suggested.

"Yeah," Natalie agreed. She swallowed, and met her friend's eyes. "But he's older now. He has a wife, he had another baby – and I think he has regrets, so – I just wish Mom was more transparent about it," she said, frustrated. "And I keep second guessing myself on what to do because something about her is really damaged about the whole thing – I mean she's never gotten over him!"

"You think?" Tali asked.

"The woman has been alone since I was, like, seven," Natalie said, exasperated. "Tali, I seriously don't think she's had sex in like, a hundred years years. Not since her and Trent broke up, and that was never serious."

Tali looked solemn for a moment, and then she giggled. Natalie laughed, too, flushing, and pushed her hair back.

"I know she's not telling me something, and I hate that. I hate it. And I respect her and I love her but this really isn't about her. It's not…it's not about me hating her or wanting to rebel. I just want to talk to my father."

Tali looked back at the phonebook, nodding blithely.

"Of course," she agreed. "It's fair," she said earnestly – and she was willing to help; Tali was a rule-follower and a good girl, but she liked a little intrigue. "The truth is out there," she added wryly, and Natalie laughed again, leaning her head on her shoulder. "HEY!" Tali cried, smacking her index finger on the page. "Is this it?"

Natalie peered closer, her heart leaping into her throat –

 _Gibbs, Leroy Jethro and Shannon. Laurel Street. Alexandra, Virginia._

"Is Shannon his wife's name?" Tali asked.

Natalie snatched the book away, her finger shaking as she found the place and looked, memorizing the address – the little black letters that pinpointed exactly where he was. She nodded slowly, swallowing hard.

"It has to be – yes," she nodded fervently, "yes, Shannon and Kelly, I know my mom told me that much, in Stillwater," she remembered vaguely. She lifted her head, a little dazed, like she'd been smacked in the back of the head with something. "Tali," she breathed. "He's like, in the same city as you."

"The same _city_?" Tali squeaked. "Laurel is like seven minutes away! It's the next exit up the beltway!"

Natalie's mouth fell open – and how long had he been there; how many times had Natalie had a slumber party at Tali David's house, never knowing her father was asleep in some house five or six miles way? She pushed her hair back roughly and dropped the phonebook, excitement and anxiety rushing through her veins.

"I could walk," she said.

Tali rolled her eyes, exasperated.

"You idiot, that's dangerous – Ziva can drive," she reminded her. "Ziva would take you, I'm sure of it – I'm sure I could make her," Tali promised earnestly.

"She wouldn't want to put her ass on the line for me," Natalie said warily – Ziva liked her fine, but Ziva was also extremely straight-laced; where Tali was a good girl who sometimes did endearingly carefree things, Ziva was calculated, slightly brooding, and always had a purpose.

Tali arched one dark eyebrow smugly.

"Oh, she would," she said mysteriously. She got up, and beckoned Natalie – and Natalie, feeling like an electric charge was running through her, followed down the hall and was on Tali's heels as the brunette blithely waltzed into Ziva's bedroom.

Lounging on the bed with headphones covering her ears, Ziva turned and looked at her sister and knocked the device off her head, narrowing her eyes.

"I didn't hear a knock," she said – her accent was slightly more pronounced than Tali's; Ziva had only started English when she was ten, Tali had been speaking it since Montessori school.

Tali ignored her, shut the door lightly, and pranced over to Ziva's bureau. She opened a music box, pulled out a mirror compact, and turned towards her sister – who immediately sat up straight with an annoyed glare and curled her lips back. She asked something sharply in Hebrew, and Natalie got the gist of it.

Tali held up the mirror compact, and popped it open. Natalie caught her breath – _oh_. Not a mirror.

Birth control.

"I have a favor to ask," Tali sang sweetly, waving the little pill container a little. "Your answer determines whether or not Ima finds out about your pulverized virginity."

Ziva looked outraged.

"Those are for my skin!" she snapped.

"Your skin is as smooth as olives in the gardens back home," retorted Tali primly.

Ziva glared at her.

"Blackmail does not become you."

Tali ignored her.

"I'm actually debating whether Ima would find it more appalling that you need birth control for your fornicating ways or that the fornicating is happening with a _Catholic_."

"Tony is barely a Catholic," scoffed Ziva.

"Who's Tony?" asked Natalie, intrigued – and delighted.

"He mows our lawn," Tali said matter-of-factly. "He's a senior." Tali gave Natalie a serious look. "He started _shtupping_ Ziva in June."

Ziva flung her headphones off her head and hissed something in Hebrew at Tali. Tali replied smoothly, and after a few moments of back-and-forth, Ziva tilted her head. She looked at Natalie warily, and shook her head.

"I cannot take you tonight," she said. "It is getting late, and Ima would ask too many questions – she does grocery shopping on Saturday mornings. I will take you tomorrow."

Natalie nodded rapidly.

"I am not going to lie if your mother comes looking for you," Ziva said edgily. "I will not betray my own mother's trust – "

"Seriously?" Tali asked, rattling Ziva's secret birth control.

Ziva glared at her balefully.

"Did you ever think that I have so carefully crafted a reputation for honesty and integrity so she never suspects?" she asked astutely.

"Ziva, you can tell my mother whatever you want," Natalie said earnestly; frankly. "Just get me to my to my father's house. You can tell her I told you my mom knew," she said.

Ziva hesitated.

"But he is safe? He is not a bad man?" she asked.

Though she didn't technically know all about him, Natalie just said yes, nodding her head rapidly. Ziva sighed, and shot a nasty glare at her sister. Tali thrust the birth control at Ziva and winked at her.

"Tell Tony congrats. I heard he got into the Baltimore police academy," she said sweetly, skipping towards the door.

"Tali," Ziva said warily, before she could open the door. She said something in Hebrew, arched a brow, and Tali made a face, and rolled her eyes, dragging Natalie out of the room and back down the hall.

"What did she say?" Natalie asked, amused.

"Ugh," Tali said, making a face. "That nothing got pulverized."

"So she hasn't had sex?" Natalie asked, momentarily curious.

Tali shrugged, shutting her bedroom door.

"Maybe she just means he wasn't good," she joked.

Natali laughed, sitting down on Tali's bed. She hugged a pillow towards her, and then turned and reached for the box she'd brought, biting her lip.

"I wish I had a sister," she said, a little tensely. She wouldn't mind having someone to talk to about stuff like that – even if she had no plans to do it, and she was extremely close to her mom, Jenny was so desperately terrified of Natalie getting pregnant that Natalie preferred to just not touch the subject.

"Don't you?" Tali asked, stepping close.

Natalie bit her lip.

"Yeah, I guess," she breathed, daunted a little. It had never seemed quite real before, and now – well now, she supposed she'd meet her – maybe. If she was there, at Gibbs' house, when Natalie turned up. "She's…I don't know, she's four or something," Natalie said. She smiled wryly. "I don't think I'd be talking to her about pulverized virginity."

Tali grinned, and then tilted her head, swaying back and forth a little.

"You sure you want to do this, Nat?" she asked quietly, her eyes a little worried. "Is it a good idea – I mean with his wife, his other daughter," she went on warily, trying to be cautious, but supportive, at the same time. "Maybe you should – maybe it is best to let your mother – "

Natalie shook her head.

"No, no," she insisted. " _No_ , I've been waiting on her – for months, years," she said, bluntly but without malice. "I don't think it's a good idea or a bad idea, I just…I want to do it. And I'm going to take the box," she said, putting her hand on it protectively.

She felt scared, suddenly; small and terrified, but strangely invigorated, and confident.

"What should I wear?" she asked, trying to make light of it.

Tali ignored that, and reached out to clasp her hand.

"What are you going to say to him?" she asked in a hushed voice.

Natalie shrugged slowly, shaking her head; she didn't know yet – but she had the box, and she knew something would come to her lips when she was standing there in front of him – and maybe she wouldn't have to talk at all; maybe – hopefully – he'd have something to say to her.

* * *

Gibbs had listened to Jenny's message at least twenty times – enough to memorize it, word for word, as he tried to decipher the tone of her voice and digest the fact that she had called him, she had reached out, and in plain English, she was at least doing something, something for once that made him feel like he wouldn't regret it if he tried to have a relationship with his daughter.

That, however, did not mean he had called her back. In fact, every time he reached for the phone, his nerves seemed to seize up, and he couldn't go any further. He was so conditioned to the status quo, to the fact that he was just, point-blank, not a part of Natalie's life. He didn't know how to take the next step in changing that and maybe, maybe he was starkly terrified by the idea, because he'd given up on this opportunity ever coming.

He stared down at his hands Saturday morning, as a cup of coffee steamed ominously in front of him. It was the weekend, he had nothing to do – he never had anything to do, but sit in this empty godforsaken house that was full of boxes he'd never unpacked, boxes of Kelly's things and Shannon's things, things he couldn't touch for fear of falling apart, things Joanne Fielding kept calling him about. She wanted to look through them and claim mementos; but he couldn't bear to let her – those things were _his_ , they were his family – his things.

Gibbs reached up and rubbed his jaw, wincing at the ache in his back – Bugsy, agitated due to Gibbs' agitation, had spent half the night sleeping directly on top of Gibbs, and she was not a particularly lightweight dog. He hadn't had the heart to kick her off, but he'd been relieved when she pounced off of him and barked at him, insisting to be let out for the morning.

If it were any other Saturday, Gibbs would pay some attention to his boat, and then, inevitably, go into work to distract himself – but it wasn't an average Saturday, and he needed to call her. He needed to call Jen.

He just didn't know how it was going to go. He was a completely different person than she'd known – he was different than the boy she'd known in Stillwater, of course, but he was different, even, than the man she'd known when she met him all those years ago, before he went to Quantico; the last time he'd actually seen her.

Then, he'd been newly married, with a new baby on the way; he'd been in a good place, trying to make it better.

Now, all of that was gone – all of that was gone, and the only reason he'd had for moving forward, for hanging on to such a shattered life, was the flicker of hope that he'd reconnect with Natalie one day and now, with that prospect right before his eyes, he doubted himself.

He didn't know if he was ready; he didn't know if he'd be good for her – he didn't know if it had been the right thing at all to reach out to her; he didn't know if he'd done it because he was trying to fill a void, just because Shannon and Kelly were gone, or if he'd done it because he knew it was time to stop the bullshit – like Shannon had said, before it was too late, before she was grown and set in some thoughts about him he couldn't change.

Bugsy let out an obscene howl, and Gibbs looked up, eyebrow raised. It was her warning howl – to let him know someone was here.

He saw a shadow bound up to the door and leap up against it, scratching. She howled again, and he rolled his eyes, getting up and striding over to the front door. Glaring through the stained glass, he wrenched it open, and Bugsy toppled toward him, wagging her tail. He opened his mouth to give her a sharp command to _shut-up_ , but before he could, Bugsy darted through his legs haphazardly, leapt down the steps, and barked again.

Gibbs took one step out onto the porch, and realized it was, indeed, another human presence that had the German Shepherd so riled up. Black hair falling over her shoulder to hide her face, she was bending to pet the dog, unafraid, her hands smoothing over Bugsy's soft ears and snout. Gibbs, frozen to the spot, stared, until she straightened up – the same girl from NCIS yesterday; the same teenage – girl –

She pushed her hair back, bracing a medium sized box on her hip with one arm and clutching at her dog tags – his dog tags, he now knew – with her free hand. She narrowed her eyes, meeting his slowly, and gave him a hesitant, nervous little smile.

"So, um," she began, with a small shrug. "Did you name this dog after me?"

As far as opening lines went, it was pretty good. It was funny, non-threatening, didn't necessarily beg an answer – which was good, because he was at a loss for what to say. He swallowed hard, just staring at her – looking at her now, knowing this was his daughter, was much different than when he'd first seen her arguing with a guard at NCIS.

He could see it now – the eyes, definitely Jen's eyes, and at that, Jasper Shepard's eyes; and he swore at the roots of that black hair he could see some of the auburn he'd expected – but there was something about her face, the shape of her nose, her jaw, that spoke to him on some extremely primitive level: _flesh and blood_ , he thought; _mine_. He should have known her the moment he saw her yesterday.

He whistled softly, and Bugsy trotted over to him, wagging her tail.

He reached down to rest his hand on her head, his eyes never leaving his unexpected visitor. He cleared his throat heavily. He decided the best course of action was to answer the question, even if it had been rhetorical or facetious or – just desperately asked to fill the silence.

"She already had the name," he said gruffly, his gaze even, searching intently. "Adopted her because of it."

She smiled at him hesitantly.

"Can I come in?" she asked.

He scratched Bugsy's ears, and the dog whined, thumping her tail. Gibbs thought about how empty the house was, how cold and dark and – depressing it looked. He didn't want to let her see that, didn't know what she'd think of him for it – but he'd always sworn, to Shannon, to Jen, to himself, that he'd never turn her away if she came looking, and here she was; this was that moment, and he was being tested.

He nodded.

"'Course you can," he said hoarsely, pushing the door open.

He held it, and beckoned to her carefully, making Bugsy sit and wait for her to pass. The dog was good – as ever, behaved impeccably until commands were given – and when Natalie crossed the threshold, Gibbs shut the door behind them, and it felt very final; very – very assertive.

She looked around, and he watched her look around, leaving them in silence – she took a deep breath.

"Coffee," she said. She turned towards him. "It smells like home. My house…it always smells like coffee. There's always," she paused, a look crossing her face, like she was kicking herself, "coffee." She paused again, and then arched a brow. "I'm usually extremely articulate," she told him.

He considered her a moment.

"That," he said heavily, "doesn't surprise me."

 _That_ , he meant, was exactly what he expected out of Jenny's daughter. Exactly what he wanted.

He steeled himself, and gestured.

"You want a cup?" he asked gruffly.

She shook her head a little.

"No, I hate coffee," she said simply. "I like cold caffeine."

Distracted, his brow furrowed.

"Cold caffeine?"

"Coca-cola," she elaborated. " _Caf-pow!_ "

"Abby's stuff?"

Natalie nodded.

"Abby's stuff," she repeated. She licked her lips. "So…we both know Abby," she said slowly, eyes on him intently, "and we both know Franks, and McLane and Pride and…Ducky, I assume," she didn't wait for him to confirm, and shifted the box on her hip into both of her hands. "Small world."

"Yeah," he said lamely.

She raised her brows at him.

That jolted him a little.

"Sit down, Natalie," he said, trying to force the scratch out of his voice – he didn't want to sound as rough and careless as he usually did these days. He gestured to the couch, and then turned – remembering it was November, it was cold as hell outside, and teenage girls like her probably thought his bare bones house was freezing.

He started to light a fire, and heard her sit her things down. He heard her take another deep breath.

"I found you in the phonebook," she said earnestly. "I searched through – Woodbridge, Silver Spring, Fairfax, Burke, Arlington," she listed, faltering. "Alexandria was the last place we – I – looked."

As a few flames bust from the wood, he turned, a slow twist starting in his gut; he looked at her a moment, and then he straightened up, glancing at the door.

"Your mother didn't give you the address?" he asked warily.

He'd assumed Franks or McLane had given Jenny his number and address or something but then – then he probably should have known – Jenny would not have just dropped Natalie off without a word –

Natalie bit her lip.

"I found it," she repeated. She shook her head a little. "Mom, she…I didn't want to wait any longer for her," she broke off, wary. "Look, my mother…she tries to stall when it comes to you, until I forget about it. But I'm not six anymore."

Gibbs took a step closer, and picked up his answering machine from a side table. He sat down, and glanced at her, nodding at the thing.

"She called," he told her. He reached out, and played the message without prompting. It began to play – the message he'd memorized last night.

" _Hello, Jethro. It's Jenny. I'm not going to keep her from you. I'd like to know some things first. You can make the next move."_

Natalie caught her breath, and she felt – she felt guilty; because last night, at Tali's, she'd been silently raging, assuming that, again, her mother was just trying to get her to drop it.

"Oh," she said softly. "Oh, well, she…okay," she said quietly, licking her lips. Her cheeks flushed. She looked at him, her eyes wide. "Were you…are you…going to make the next move?" she inquired nervously.

He looked down at his answering machine, and grinned a little, in spite of himself.

"Think you already did," he said, in what he hoped was a good-natured way. He lifted his head and looked back at her. His smile faded a little. "Natalie, does she know you're here?" he asked, his gut still bothering – he didn't want to get off on the wrong foot here; god forbid Jen think he was already going behind her back.

Natalie swallowed, and shrugged a little.

"You should – well, should define ' _know_ ,' you see; a person can _know_ something, for a fact, because I told that person, or a person could instinctively understand that this was probably going to happen and let me go to my friend Tali's house knowing subconsciously that I was going to make a detour, so that person, in this case my mother, might know in her gut without…actually…" Natalie trailed off a little and winced, shaking her head. "No, she doesn't know."

Gibbs grit his teeth, his back stiffening a little. He started to move forward, hesitating.

"I got to call her," he said dully.

"Wait," Natalie began, as he got up.

He shook his head.

"Natalie," he began, his voice strained. "You know what kind of fit Jen – your mother – _she'll_ throw if she thinks I undermined her or," bitterness started to creep into his voice, and he shut his mouth quickly; another thing he didn't want to do was start badmouthing Jenny in front of Natalie. His issues with Jen were between himself and Jen, no one else; and he wouldn't put that on her.

"I know, okay, please," Natalie said, grabbing his arm. "I _know_. I live with her. I get it," she said earnestly. "Just give me – just wait to call her, for – an hour, or even less, if she scares you," she begged. "I'm not trying to rebel against her or hoodwink her and I don't want to pit you against her but she deserves this," Natalie said intently. "Please—um, Jethro? – don't call her yet. She's – if it helps, she's not even awake," Natalie glanced at her watch, "it's Saturday. She gets up at ten."

Conflicted, Gibbs stood looking at her, the heat of the fire hitting his back where he stood. His eyes fell to the hand she had clutching the edge of her box, the small backpack she had thrown over her shoulder – just the pleading, eager look on her face – and he gave in; silently, he sat down with tacit acquiescence; he grudgingly told himself it didn't matter if he called Jen now or tomorrow – she'd still throw a fit, and this whole thing was going to be a shit show no matter what he did.

It was a moment, again, that tested his promise to open his door to her Jen-be-damned, and again, he held true to that promise.

She smiled faintly.

"You can tell her I told you she knew. I'll back you up; I swear."

He shook his head just a little.

"'M not gonna lie to your mom, kid," he said quietly; firmly.

Natalie shrugged a little; she nodded at that. She really didn't care who told on her or ratted her out; it felt invigorating to finally take this into her own hands – and she didn't care what her mother did about it – even if she did feel a little overwhelmed and a little like – well – like something was wrong.

She had – she had envisioned sort of…knocking on the door while her father was starting a chaotic morning with his wife and daughter, maybe cooking breakfast, maybe getting the paper – but this silent, empty house, filled only with the smell of coffee was – was much stranger, much less welcoming, than she'd expected.

He cleared his throat.

"Don't call me Jethro," he said, rather abruptly, a look if distaste crossing his face.

Natalie swallowed uncertainly.

"I wasn't sure what," she began hesitantly. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," she admitted, "by, um," she tucked heir behind her ears, "by saying… _Dad_ or something, in case you weren't – okay with that."

He grit his teeth together uncomfortably. What the hell else was she supposed to call him? His own daughter calling him Jethro had hurt more than he could have imagined it would, but then he suspected she'd feel strange calling him something as affectionate and intimate as _Dad_.

"Gibbs," he grunted. "If you don't want the other thing," he said gruffly.

"The other thing?" she quoted, somewhat amused.

He reached over and picked up his coffee mug, shooting a look at Bugsy as the dog edged towards it curiously. Looking down into the dark brew, he shrugged a little.

"Dad," he said slowly. He paused before taking a sip, and inhaled the coffee steadily. "S'what you always called me before," he added heavily. He set his coffee down after a long drink. "She might not like it," he warned.

Natalie looked startled.

"Who, _Mom_?" she asked. She shook her head. "No, no she wouldn't – no, see," Natalie paused, frustrated as she tried to express herself. "She just wouldn't care if I called you that, okay? At least, I'm pretty confident. This serious boyfriend she dated, when I was little, she wouldn't even let me do a father-daughter dance with him…" Natalie trailed off. "I'm sorry," she said faintly. "I – we don't have to mention her."

He shrugged.

"Don't mind it," he said neutrally.

"You look upset," she told him.

He grinned a little tiredly.

"I always look like this," he joked a little.

She seemed to relax a little. He looked at his hands, and then back at her.

"She never got married?" he asked suddenly.

Taken aback, Natalie bit her lip. She shook her head.

"No," she said. "She only ever dated two guys seriously. Brent and Trent," she revealed.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

"I know, they rhyme," Natalie said. "I don't know why she broke up with Brent. I liked him. I wanted her to marry him. He was my second grade teacher. But Trent…he was only like a year ago, when I was almost thirteen. And she broke up with Trent because I told her he looked at me funny. He looked at me the same way he looked at her," Natalie explained edgily. "All I had to say was that he made me feel dirty, and," Natalie snapped, "he was out on the curb before he could blink."

Gibbs's face darkened at that; he felt protective, and ashamed that he hadn't been around – smugly satisfied that Jenny had no qualms at all about making sure Natalie was taken care of first.

"Brent and Trent?" he repeated, an annoyed edge to his voice – he didn't know if he was annoyed because he was jealous, because Natalie had said she wanted this Brent person around, or because Jenny had stayed single, and he'd moved on with his life, and that made him feel – bad, somehow.

Maybe, he'd have been better off single; maybe he wouldn't have lost so much.

"Weird, I know," Natalie placated. "But a coincidence."

"Only two?" Gibbs ventured, eyes settling on her.

Natalie nodded.

"I don't know if she sleeps with people," she said frankly, narrowing her eyes, as if that were a question that would come up next.

Gibbs stared at her, startled, and her cheeks flushed – only a little, though; she seemed defiant about it, more than anything.

"Wouldn't expect her to tell you," Gibbs said warily, arching an eyebrow.

Natalie licked her lips quickly. She felt guilty – her cheeks flushed darker; she knew her mother would absolutely hit the roof if she knew Natalie was spilling all these personal stories, but Natalie just didn't know what to say – there were so many blanks to fill in, and she didn't know what her parents' history was like at all. She wanted some clue to that, but then –

"I don't want to talk about her," Natalie said softly.

Gibbs nodded.

"Okay," he agreed flatly.

He lifted his hand a little, and pointed.

"What's in the box?"

Natalie took a deep breath and brought it onto her lap.

"It's actually, um," she began quickly, and then backtracked, and went slower: "It's – been kind of a cataclysmic box," she said thoughtfully. "Mom and I don't fight," she said, looking up. "But, we fought over this. Everything in it," she said. "You."

Gibbs just lifted his eyebrows a little.

Natalie reached in, and pulled something out.

"It's got – your letters in it, from when I was a baby – starting in nineteen eighty-seven, for every few months, then holidays and birthdays, than after, ah," Natalie thought a moment, "ah! Nineteen ninety-one, only on my birthday, and Christmas, or maybe Easter – and not letters, after that," she explained.

She swallowed quickly, and tipped the box towards him, showing him the contents.

"It's also – I only got the letters, and postcards and stuff, in the box, but I put other things – this cabbage patch doll, and then there's a colouring book Mom must have put in here years ago," she explained. "It's just things from you," she said. "Things you sent. Before you stopped."

She chewed on her lip.

Gibbs put his hand in the box, looking through. He remembered those letters – sent from Camp Lejeune, and then Monterey, Pendleton – Germany even, right before he shipped out; back when he'd been so diligently trying – calling even. He picked one up, and turned it over; the seal was broken; the letter a little frayed, and poking out.

"When I got this box, I called all of the numbers," Natalie told him. "The number you put at the bottom of each one – I called them all, just to see, and I they were all disconnected. Even," she rummaged, and pulled out a post card, "even this one, the most recent."

He stared at it.

He'd sent it from Paris, right before he discharged from the Corps.

Lifting his eyes away from the horrible reminder, he looked at her uncertainly, eyes narrowing.

" _When_ you got the box?" he asked hoarsely.

"It's a long – we moved out of Melly's when I was – seven, I think," she explained. "I guess – she never told you we moved, because Melly kept getting your things, and at first she brought them over, but she just – well, Melly's…she's flighty," Natalie said, her voice shaking, "but she finally sold her old apartment, and she sent all this stuff to Mom – but it was addressed to both of us, so I opened it, and found all of this – this stuff you'd sent me," she paused, biting her lip.

Gibbs looked at the letter he was holding. He shook his head.

"Didn't know you'd moved," he confirmed.

"That's what I thought," Natalie said. "She – Mom swears she didn't hide it all on purpose; she said she was holding the letters for when I got older, old enough to read them, but I _know_ some part of her deliberately forgot. She's so – she's so – " Natalie broke off.

She didn't want to badmouth her mother to a man who was a virtual stranger to her, but she couldn't help it – and she didn't know what she was trying to say. Maybe this was all too heavy for a first meeting, but then again – what was the point in talking about the weather or polite little nothings? Natalie hated small talk and she hated subterfuge.

"She _hates_ talking about you," Natalie said hoarsely. "I mean, she really hates it. When I was – when my grandfather died – Jasper, her father – I asked her about you, I mean really asked her, and it made her cry. Not in front of me; she cried later. I swore I'd stop making her feel that way. But I think she's protecting me for stupid reasons. I think she's underestimating me. And I can't do it anymore. And I got all these letters from you, and you're in the same city – the same _workplace_ as her – and I can't tiptoe around _her_ anymore. You're my father. And if you – if you're happy with your new family, and you don't want to be my father, or you really are an axe murderer and she just doesn't want to tell me that – I need to hear it from you. Because," she said, clutching a handful of letters written to baby Natalie, "because I don't think the person who wrote _these_ is dangerous or is going to hurt me," she finished, her voice cracking a little.

Gibbs swallowed, letting her words sink in – heavy words for a Saturday morning, but then, he'd never been the type who liked doublespeak or beating around the bush. It was why he'd always gotten on so well with Jen, even with Shannon; different women, but with both: no games, just straightforward honesty.

He tried to gather his thoughts – so much had come out of her, that he didn't know what to pick first – and he felt very, very wary suddenly, like he really should pick up the phone, tell Jen to come get her, and talk to Jenny first.

He unclenched his jaw, reaching up to rub his neck roughly. He lowered his eyes.

"You know about my – my wife?" he asked – he surprised himself; it was all he could manage. "My daughter?"

Natalie swiped at her eyes lightly, blue eyes sparkling. She nodded.

"Yes," she said quietly. "Shannon and Kelly. Grandpa Jack told her at Grandpa Jasper's funeral. I think she told me to make me think you'd moved on. That you didn't care."

"Natalie," he said suddenly, his brow furrowing – and his voice a little sharp. "Your mother isn't that cruel."

The sudden defense of Jenny surprised him, but he didn't take it back; he was startled, suddenly, but how much less animosity was brewing in him over her – there was hardly any rage, or painful hatred, simmering – and he realized now that he hadn't even felt it flare up when he'd seen her, standing there in the bullpen, looking barely a day older than nineteen.

"I don't think she's cruel," Natalie said, very honestly, very matter-of-factly. "I love her. She is the single most important person in my life. That doesn't mean she's never screwed up." Natalie blinked, her lips twitching. "I learned _that_ from her. It was a time-out lecture." She hesitated. "I think she's misguided."

Gibbs didn't say anything for a moment. He looked down at his hands, then lifted his head, and looked over at Bugsy, laying quietly and lazily by the front door. The dog perked an ear up at him, and then she wagged her tail and yawned, content to be in a little sliver of sunlight. Blinking, Gibbs saw her on the streets of Paris for a moment, in the sunlight that presided over the accident – blinking again, he was back in the room with Natalie, feeling like a hand was squeezing tight in his chest.

Natalie turned towards him.

He lifted his head.

"I never wanted not to be your father, Natalie," he said, forcing the words out very carefully – with incredibly difficulty, because the very thought that she might have believed that was awful to him, and it made him regret every decision he'd made, out of anger towards or spite for or wariness of Jenny, that pushed him further away from her. "I didn't," he said, his throat tightening a little, "replace you."

"I'm not accusing you of that," she said earnestly, softly. "It doesn't matter to me that you – argh," she broke off, frustrated. "I just don't know what happened," she said desperately. "I don't know why you left or what – what made you reach out again – "

Sharply, suddenly, he turned towards her, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

"Did your mother tell you I _left_?" he demanded, his volume rising – unexpectedly provoked, he yanked his hand back, afraid he'd scared her – but her wide, blue eyes, while alarmed, weren't necessarily shining with fear – but with a sharp, intelligent curiosity.

"I assumed," she said honestly. "My mother never told me anything," she breathed. "I don't – know if I care about – I'm not here to make you feel guilty or anything, or to disrupt Shannon and Kelly," she paused, taking a shaky breath. "I thought they'd be here. I don't know what I was imagining."

Gibbs turned away, his back and shoulders aching with tension – he felt so – utterly devastated, thinking – no matter what Jen had said, or hadn't said – that Natalie thought it was all as simple as him leaving, as him being too young, not wanting her – all of the things he'd been afraid she'd think, and all of the things that were so untrue.

He grit his teeth until his jaw ached, and looked up, focused on Bugsy for a moment.

"G…ibbs?" Natalie ventured. "Did you…get divorced?"

The house was so empty; it didn't look like a family lived here. She had wondered, from the moment she walked in – and that wasn't good; Natalie knew that the messier his life looked, the more her mother would balk and freak out about it –

Gibbs shook his head harshly, his head aching.

He hadn't ever spoken of this, not with anyone but that goddamn therapist the Corps made him see, and that had helped more than he would ever admit but – what could he do, sit here and lie to her? Be dishonest, untrustworthy?

He shook his head again.

"Natalie," he started huskily. "My wife, my daughter," he began. He stopped. He kept his mouth closed, steeling himself, for what felt like an eternity; it was thirty seconds – Natalie counted. "They died in Paris."

Natalie blinked, jolting forward suddenly. Instinctively, she grabbed his arm, squeezing hard, just above his elbow.

" _What_?"

He stared at Bugsy; he didn't know if he could handle Natalie's eyes – her sadness, their similarity to his Kelly's – any of it.

Bugsy got up and came over, nuzzling up against Gibbs' legs. He reached down to rub her fiercely, pulling her closer to his knees for comfort.

Natalie bit her lip, and slowly pulled her hand back.

The emptiness of the house, the silence, suddenly felt black and crushing. She didn't know what to do, or say, or how to help – she felt awful, and horrified and –

"Does my – does my mom know?" she asked, a panicky edge to her voice.

Gibbs shook his head slowly.

He finally turned and looked at her. Natalie's lips trembled.

"What happened?" she asked.

He tried to steady his answer.

"Car – crash," he managed heavily.

Natalie's face paled; she reached out to touch him again. She thought of Princess Diana – the tragic car crash in Paris, news coverage of which Jenny had watched for days on end, lamenting the death of the People's Princess – but Natalie didn't make a comparison. She didn't say a word – at first.

"Dad," she said softly. "I'm – "

The phone rang, brutally cutting her off, and Bugsy growled at it amiably. Gibbs, blinking, shocked by the garish sound, turned rapidly, and he focused on the phone, on its second ring, third ring, and then – he grabbed it, because instinctively, intuitively, he knew exactly who it was.

"Gibbs," he grunted hoarsely.

He fell silent, and Natalie watched him, studying his face intently. Her blood, her skin, her insides – everything about her felt frozen and breakable, like thin ice, like glass, and she wanted desperately to hug him –but she was afraid to touch him, and suddenly, in the revelation of his loss, she felt small, and unwanted – like a reminder, or a burden.

"Yeah, Jen," she heard him say. He looked over at her. "She's here."

Natalie caught her breath – she'd never heard anyone call her mother 'Jen' before. Not like that – not in such a familiar, completely intimate way. Something about the way he said it – sounded different. Loaded with history, maybe.

A moment later, he said.

"I'll get her home."

He paused.

"Jen," he said.

Natalie watched him like a hawk, her eyes singing. Her head was hurting. She wanted – she wanted, very much, to go home, suddenly.

She wanted her mother, and she wasn't quite sure why.

"Tell her everything, Jen," Gibbs said. "I want you to tell her."

Gibbs said nothing else, but Natalie watched as he listened, and then he hung up, and she pushed her hair back, swiping at her eyes.

"Tell me what?" Natalie asked. "What happened, with you, her, me?" her voice cracked. "I'm sorry, Dad, I didn't – "

He stood up, stepping closer.

"C'mon, Natalie," he said. "C'mon. I got to get you home," he told her. "S'okay," he muttered. "You didn't know."

She stood up, clutching her backpack.

"I'll go by myself," she said bravely. "I'll – I will take the bus, I travel from Alexandria to Georgetown all the time," she saw the protest on his face, and she shook her head. "Let me go," she warned, a little more sharply than she meant.

She took a few steps towards the door, and then she turned, her eyes searching. She took a heavy breath, staring at him, and stepped closer.

" _You_ tell me," she said earnestly, her voice heavy and low.

Looking at her, Gibbs felt lost. He'd use to dream of telling Natalie exactly what Jenny had done; he'd envisioned giving her the story, watching her turn with distrustful eyes on the mother who'd ripped her away – he'd imagined what it would be like to get it out there, to put Jen on the spot and up for judgement – and now, faced with the opportunity, and in light of the true trauma he'd experienced lately – he didn't have it in him.

He shook his head, eyes on her.

"It's her story, Bug," he said, inadvertently using the old nickname.

Her lashes fluttered, and she pushed her hair back, hiding her face a moment. She wanted to say something about his wife and his daughter, but she had the dreadful feeling nothing could make it better – and much as she wanted to know the history – her history! – she was struck with that unbelievable need for her mother again, and she lifted her eyes to the ceiling, bracing herself, steeling herself.

"After her, I want to hear your side of the story," she said huskily.

She turned to go, hoping that he understood her meaning – that she was leaving now, but it wasn't because she was being chased off – she was overwhelmed, she had probably made a mistake in ignoring her mother's wishes – but as blindsided and uncertain as she felt, and as much as her heart ached for him, she felt some exhilaration at finally seeing light creep into the shadows that had been cast over this part of her life for so long.

* * *

Jenny was shaking – she was anxious, she was angry and she was – shaking, generally, with an overall feeling of complete helplessness. She felt out of control, and she'd been feeling it since the moment Rivka David picked up the phone and said, slightly confused, that Ziva had taken Natalie home this morning.

In the panic that followed – Jenny telling Rivka that Natalie most certainly was not home, Rivka shrieking in Hebrew at both of her daughters until finally Tali got on the phone and explained what had happened while her mother ripped her sister a new one in the background – Jenny had truly thought she was losing her mind.

For the mere half an hour during which she didn't know where Natalie was, her fear that something had happened, that she'd lost her daughter forever, was profound and haunting, and she'd never forget it. She was pacing the hall when the front door finally opened and Natalie slipped in, bringing a gust of cold air with her.

She dropped her book bag on the floor, and slowly looked up. She stood, lowering her head a little – Jenny wouldn't call it meek, necessarily, but it was at least marginally contrite – and waited. Jenny gave her a cold glare for a full minute before she took two steps forward, looking down on her harshly.

"What in the _hell_ is the matter with you, Natalie?" she growled.

Natalie tucked her hair behind her ear silently. She shrugged a little, and the shrug pissed Jenny off – it was so irreverent, so unlike her collected, polite Natalie.

" _Look_ at me, dammit!" Jenny swore. Natalie looked up, and Jenny almost bared her teeth, scowling at her. "Do you have any idea how terrifying it is for me to find out you're _not where you said you'd be_? When Rivka David is telling me you were dropped off at home and your bed is _empty_ – you're _nowhere_ to be found?" she demanded, her voice rising with every word.

Her eyes flashed, and she reached out, taking Natalie's chin sharply in her palm.

"This sort of brooding bullshit is never something I expected out of you, young lady – "

" _Young lady_?" quoted Natalie in disbelief, genuinely surprised. "Young – Mom, seriously, I'm not sure you're old enough to be that much of a parent," she joked.

Jenny leaned back some, as if she was physically repelled by Natalie's attitude, and instantly the fourteen-year-old knew it was a mistake. She sucked her lower lip and bit down hard on her tongue, wincing, and Jenny's eyes narrowed coldly.

"We are _not_ friends right now, Natalie Winter," Jenny snarled pointedly. "You are the child. You are not an equal," she told her firmly. She let go of her chin. "Do you think being allowed to get yourself to school, to stay home alone, to go where you want in this city and see your friends – do you think that is a _right_? Do you think those things are protected?" she demanded, without waiting for an answer. "If you do, if you think for a second that your life is not full of privileges based on trust, I will show you the error of your thoughts so fast your head will spin."

Natalie opened her mouth, stepping back a little.

"I didn't lie, Mom, I – "

"Don't you dare, Natalie, don't you dare – "

"I told you I'd be home when I was ready, I just omitted – "

"You told me you were going to be at Tali David's house!" shouted Jenny.

"I was! I never said I wasn't _also_ going to go – ah, somewhere else!"

"For God's sake!" cried Jenny, throwing her hand up. "A lie of omission is still a lie – and you know better, ooh, _honey_ , you know better," she growled, shaking her head. "Not only did you essentially run away – "

"Seriously?" interrupted Natalie. "Run away? That's so contrived – "

" _Be quiet_ , Natalie," Jenny barked firmly. "Listen," she ordered. "You went behind my back. You were told to let me take this into my hands first, before you – "

"God, but I'm so sick of waiting!" Natalie snapped. "I'm so tired of walking on tiptoes around you about it! It's my life too! He's my father! And I told you, I can handle this – you know I'm mature, you know I'm – "

"Mature girls do not lie to their parents', and their friends' parents, and run around deliberately ignoring orders and sticking their nose in places where it might get cut off!" Jenny fired back. "If you want to stand there and throw the word maturity in my face after the stunt you just pulled, you have got another thing coming, _missy_."

"Missy?" Natalie hissed. "Young lady _and_ missy? What is going _on_? I've never heard you sound so – so – baby boomer – "

"You've never, in your life, _pissed_ me off this much," Jenny answered dangerously.

She swallowed hard, and tried to take a deep breath, reining in her anger.

"You went behind my back, you deliberately disregarded my wishes, and now, you're standing in front of me, looking me straight in the eye, and you're lying to me again." Jenny lifted her chin. "I don't like the lying, Natalie," she said sharply. "You aren't a liar."

Natalie gave her a particularly defiant look, with eyes that were red and raw.

"I wasn't lying," Natalie retorted coolly "I was obfuscating the truth. Don't worry, Mom. I planned on telling you all about it when you're older. Just know it wasn't your fault."

Jenny grit her teeth – as a mother, she wanted to smack Natalie in the mouth for that kind of brazen back-talk; she'd never do it, but her hand itched – as an individual, however, she grudgingly admitted that was a good comeback – particularly since eighty-percent of the worlds were Jenny's own.

She shook her head, folding her arms.

"You've got a lot of nerve, little girl," she said tightly; quietly. "I asked you to let me talk to him first. I had every intent of following through with that – "

"Mom, how was I supposed to know that?" she burst out. "You told me at Grandpa's funeral that you'd figure out what to tell me, and that was – three years ago! I'm not going around deliberately trying to spite you or piss you off and I don't mean any disrespect – "

"No disrespect? No – and what exactly do you think actions like these are, if they aren't disrespectful?" demanded Jenny.

"I don't want you to take it that way!" Natalie cried. "I want you to understand that this is about me, making sure my father knows that I'm not letting someone speak for me, and I am not going to be shut out of the decision making this time!"

Jenny held up her hands.

"You didn't even give me twenty-four hours before you blew me off and went stampeding into the middle of all of this – this kind of breach of my trust, Natalie, it is going to have a severe impact – "

"You keep talking about trust, but if you trust me so much, why were you calling Ms. David to check up on me?" challenged Natalie. "You must have implicitly known that I was going to do something, and instead of letting me go back to work with you last night you – "

"I trusted you to overcome any radical impulses you might have and stay with Tali like you said you were going to!" snapped Jenny. She grit her teeth. "I called Rivka to see if you girls were up. It was my intention," she said stiffly, "to pick you up for brunch and use the day to – hash some things out," she revealed grudgingly.

Natalie's face changed. She stepped forward.

"You were going to – you were going to tell me the story? Explain things - ?"

"I guess you'll never know what I was going to do," Jenny snapped harshly.

Natalie blinked, lurching back a little. She looked affronted by the threat, baffled for a moment, and then she stomped her foot childishly, and pushed her hair back, tangling her hand in it a moment before wrenching it free.

"So I only deserve to know about my past if I toe the line – if I never have my own initiative or choices – "

"It isn't your past, Natalie; it's mine!"

" _Well it affected me!"_ Natalie bellowed. "How can you say it's not my past, too?"

Jenny put her hand to her forehead.

"It is," she agreed, understanding she'd made a mistake in saying that – it was an incorrect comment. "What happened between me and your father is a personal adult matter – "

"Oh, whatever. Whatever," Natalie snarled edgily. "Adult? You were _children_ ," she said nastily. "You were barely five years older than I am now when it all happened and I don't understand why the _fuck_ you think I won't be able to relate to teenage mentality!"

"Natalie Winter Gibbs," jenny said icily. "Do not ever swear at me again."

" _Don't_ call me by his last name, if you never thought he was important," Natalie fired back.

Jenny looked at her coldly for a moment, and then swallowed.

"For a very long time, he was the most important person in my entire life," she said simply, lowering her voice.

The sudden change in tone, the word themselves, seemed to calm Natalie slightly; her eyes sharpened. She licked her lips, pushing her hair back again. Jenny took a deep breath, and folded her arms tightly across herself, shaking her head.

"Natalie," she sighed unhappily. "I wanted you to wait to get involved because his life is not the same as mine. Mine…I never got remarried, I never moved on that much," she explained. "And – you know, if someone – for example, if his wife – Shannon – had just let her Kelly knock on our door and ask to meet her sister or something, I would have felt threatened, I would have gone _ballistic_ – and I wanted to talk to him first, make sure she didn't feel threatened by you, or just – generally see what that situation held," she went on.

"Mom," Natalie said softly.

"I wanted to make sure – that – the last time I saw him, Natalie, he was – very angry with me, and I didn't want to let you confront him if he still – was feeling that poisonous towards me, I didn't want him to take it out on you," she paused, shaking her head, "and I can't stand the thought that you might get hurt because he's got this other family – "

"Mom!"

"Jesus Christ, Natalie, how am I supposed to ever explain myself if you won't let me talk?" Jenny asked tiredly.

"Mom," Natalie said again, her face pale.

Jenny's brow darkened.

"What?" she asked, her heart skipping a beat. "What's the matter?"

Natalie's eyes filled with tears.

"I really don't – you don't have to worry about his – about Shannon not wanting me or – you're not going to have to worry about that – "

Jenny moved forward, reaching out.

"Natalie, did she say something to you?" she asked protectively; anxiously. "Did he?" God – this was exactly what she'd tried to prevent, to protect Natalie from – the poor thing shouldn't have barged in on them, and now Jenny would have to find some way to reconcile –

Natalie was shaking her head.

"No, I don't mean he doesn't want me – or she – Mommy, they're dead," she said shakily, her voice breaking.

She closed her eyes, biting her lip to keep it from trembling – she'd been thinking about it the whole trip home – on the walk, on the bus, on the metro; internalizing the indecipherable way she was feeling about that revelation – and her mother, starting in on her right away, had numbed that for a moment, dulled the shock – but she just couldn't stand here and deal with it anymore; she didn't know how – and that's why she'd wanted to come home in the first place.

"What?" Jenny asked again. "What are you talking about? Natalie? Who's dead?"

She touched Natalie's hair, stroked it gently, and tilted her head up, searching her daughter's pale face. Natalie's cheeks flushed and she blinked, knocking Jenny's hands away gently as she wiped at her wet eyes.

"His wife and his daughter," Natalie whispered hoarsely. "They died in Paris," she said.

Jenny stared at her, moving her head a little. She pursed her lips.

"No, Bug – come on, who told you that? Franks?" she asked weakly.

" _He_ did," Natalie said. "Dad did," she insisted. "He said it was a car acci- acci – " Natalie stammered, unable to get the words out. Her face crumpled, and she lowered her face, a waterfall of black hair falling in front of it.

Jenny blinked heavily, just staring at her, at a loss for words. She shook her head. Instinctively, she stepped forward, and pulled Natalie tightly against her in a hug, pressing her palm gently to her daughter's neck. She shook her head again.

"He just – told you something like that? Without warning?" she asked, her voice faltering – she didn't know if she was angry about that or – she didn't know what to feel, but clearly that kind of information had overwhelmed Natalie and distressed her – understandably – and Jenny wasn't sure if she could even process it herself.

She tilted Natalie's head back gently.

"Bug – are you sure he said they – that they were," she broke off, desperately. "You didn't misunderstand?"

Natalie shook her head rapidly.

"No, Mom, you – you didn't see him, and his house – I felt, in my heart, something as wrong – even though he let me in, you know, he wanted me to be there but it's really obvious," she said heavily, tears dripping down her face, "that _no one_ but him lives in that house."

Jenny felt some sort of dull, throbbing heartache – misplaced, unspecific – and she swallowed hard, pulling Natalie back into a hug. She kissed the crown of her head, and then cleared her throat, stepping back.

"Can you give me a minute?" she asked, her throat a little raspy. She pushed her own hair back.

"Why?" Natalie asked quietly. She looked wary; her red eyes widened a little. "Don't call him right now – don't yell at him," she started. "He didn't know – I ambushed him, really – "

"No, no," Jenny murmured rapidly, shaking her head firmly. "I'm not calling him; I'm calling Grandpa Jack," she said matter-of-factly, her voice level. Softened by Natalie's obvious sadness, she tired a small, wary smile. "Can I trust you not to sneak out the back door while I'm in the study?"

Natalie folded her arms protectively in her front, and nodded.

"Yes," she agreed softly. "I'm going to go up to my room and listen to Alanis Morissette for a while," she murmured – only slightly dramatically.

Jenny bit her lip, and nodded. She leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"I'll bring up some tea," she promised gently. "We aren't done by a longshot, Nat," she added huskily.

Natalie nodded, and dodged past Jenny slowly to get up the stairs to her room. Jenny waited until she heard a door shut and then, her heart racing sickeningly in her chest, she went into the study and wrenched the phone out of its cradle, dialing Jackson Gibbs' number violently. She stood by the fire place, where embers from early this morning gleamed feebly, and chewed on her thumbnail, trying to get her thoughts in order.

Natalie couldn't be serious – the little family Jackson gushed over, was so proud of – dead? Jethro's wife and his daughter? There was no way in hell it was something Natalie would invent to make Jenny feel guilty, and there was even less of a chance that Gibbs would ever fabricate something so absolutely devastating – but Jenny just – she couldn't believe it; no one was that unlucky – and Gibbs, even when they were young, hadn't opened up like that, he hadn't been a talker – Jenny remembered how it had been when his mother was dying, when his mother died –

"Gibbs' General Store, hope you're havin' a fine day! How c'n I – "

"Jackson," Jenny interrupted impatiently.

"That you, Jennifer?" he asked brightly. "Don't mind my spiel; it's like second nature now – "

"Jackson," Jenny said again. "I hope you're doing well – this isn't a social call," she said rapidly, her words running together without proper structure.

"Is Natalie okay?" Jackson asked immediately.

"Physically?" Jenny asked dryly. "She's peachy. Yes- - she's healthy; she's fine," Jenny soothed. "Jackson," she began. "Jackson, did you know Jethro's working as an NCIS agent at the D.C. Navy Yard?"

"No," Jackson said, baffled. "Leroy? What in the hell – last time I saw him, he was in 'is dress blues!" he said, consternated. "NCIS – ain't that where you work?" he asked suddenly.

"It's a frighteningly small world," Jenny said tightly. "Long story – short, he and Natalie ran into each other. He told her – Jackson, he told her Shannon and Kelly were _dead_. That they died in – Paris. Do you know anything about...? I know you don't keep in touch with him, but what – what's going on?" she finished weakly.

There was silence on the other end for a long time – a long, drawn out moment that confirmed, more than anything Jackson was preparing to say, the truth.

"Yeah," Jackson said heavily, finally breaking the silence. "Yeah, Jenny, they died last year. February. End of February."

Jenny sat down hard on the ottoman in front of the fireplace, pressing the phone tensely against her ear.

"I don't understand," she said lamely – but of course, she did. "What…happened?"

Jackson sighed.

"I didn't get much out of Leroy, Jenny," he warned her. "It was a fatal car accident. From what I know, both of them died at the scene. What I never figured out was what the circumstances were. She'd told me they were moving back to the States for a while."

Jenny pressed her fingers to her lips, looking up at the ceiling. She couldn't find the words to say, and Jackson filled in the silence.

"He came home for the funeral. Her parents – Shannon's parents – had the girls buried here. He didn't fight them. He didn't stay longer'n a day. He left…when he left, he was still in the Corps. Said he was movin' to Turkey, after Paris."

"What kind of military engagements was he doing in those kinds of places?" she asked helplessly. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice demanded to know why the hell Gibbs would let his family be buried in Stillwater - why his in-laws would want her there, and not close to them; but then, it was drowned out by everything else.

"Not combat," Jackson said gruffly. "He was an embassy guard commander."

"Ah," Jenny said faintly – that answered a question she'd been wondering for years – why had he been in Paris, Germany – all those gorgeous Western European destinations.

"You said he's some – agent now? Not in the Corps?" Jackson prodded.

An old, lingering loyalty – from the days when they'd never ratted each other out to their parents – prompted Jenny to play it close to the vest.

"Yes, he's NCIS now," she said vaguely – she didn't mention his issues with the court martial; she didn't even know enough about it herself to air that dirty laundry. "How old was Kelly?" she asked.

"Three and a half," Jackson answered immediately – he didn't even have to think. He paused. "You know, I remember – that dog he had with him, that dog he named after Nat," he muttered, "she survived the accident."

"Bugsy," Jenny said thoughtfully. The NCIS mascot, Abby called her; the dog Franks was now always bitching about.

"Why'd he leave the Corps?" Jackson ventured.

"I don't know," Jenny said evasively.

She swallowed, looking down at her knees. She closed her eyes tightly.

"There's a lot I don't know right now," she admitted warily.

"He," began Jackson. "He – reached out to Natalie? 'Cause I begged him to, Jenny – you know that look in his eye, the one he always had after his mother died – after you left – "

"Yeah," Jenny whispered. "I know the look."

"It went away, after he met Shannon, but it was back after they died," Jackson said. "Lord, it was back. Worse than before."

"Wouldn't it be?" Jenny asked, her voice hushed. "His child, Jackson. His _child_."

She didn't even try to imagine the pain; she didn't want to.

"I was there when they buried them," Jackson said. "It wasn't pretty."

Jenny rubbed her jaw, again – at a loss for what to say.

"You say this happened – in February?" she asked weakly.

"February last," Jackson amended. "Ninety-eight," he said gruffly.

More than a year – almost two years, she supposed. Still – would trauma like that ever fade, really? It worried her – she was daunted by what she might be letting Natalie step into if he was – if he was badly affected, somehow, unstable – though she thought this must have something to do with the reason he'd been court martialed. She couldn't quite understand how – but this, this was definitely something that would have pushed Gibbs to the utter breaking point.

"Jenny?" Jackson asked. "He reached out to Natalie?" he asked again.

"Not – not in the conventional sense," she said hoarsely. "I mean, yes," she looked over at her desk, where the final postcard Melly had forward sat, "yes, it turns out he was trying but – it was more like, a, um – a cosmic joke," Jenny murmured. "Natalie was coming to see me at NCIS, and he ended up as her escort – it was quite a scene...Jackson, I'm rambling…I'm sorry – Natalie went over there this morning, and she's all torn up—"

"Did he say something mean to 'er?" Jackson demanded, bristling.

"No," Jenny said – though she supposed she didn't really know. "It's not…Natalie is just…stressed. She's conflicted right now." Jenny closed her eyes tightly. "It doesn't have anything to do with Jethro, really, it's my fault," she muttered absently.

"None of what happened is your fault," Jackson said skeptically.

"Not that," she corrected edgily. "I mean – Natalie's behavior, it's – I have to cop to it," she muttered. "You're not a therapist," she said suddenly, composing herself. "I shouldn't have – dragged you into this, and I'm sorry," she hesitated, softening her tone. "I'm so sorry, Jackson," she said. "I mean…she was your granddaughter. I'm so sorry."

"Appreciate that, Jenny," he said sincerely. "Look, it sounds like you've got a lot going on now, but hey," he began warily, "when it all settles down will you…give me a call? Or tell Natalie to?" he asked – and Jenny knew she must have piqued his curiosity – how could she blame him? The last time he'd heard of Jenny and Gibbs in the same zip code of each other, Natalie had barely been talking.

"I will," Jenny promised. She licked her lips. "Jackson, I – "

"Go on," he said gruffly, without malice.

She murmured a goodbye, and hung up the phone carefully, taking a moment to put her hand over her mouth in the silence that followed. She sat impossibly still, letting the knowledge sink in – Natalie's words, Jackson's confirmation, the trouble, troubling thought of Gibbs, alone somewhere in this city, dealing with such a heavy loss – she felt awash with guilt over it, guilt she couldn't quite explain. It wasn't her fault – she knew it wasn't – and yet, her mind went in a thousand different directions, and she felt – so much more responsible for his pain than she had in a long time.

She took a deep breath, and hauled herself up, heading into the kitchen to scrounge up some tea. She found a box of breakfast tea in the cupboard – she was surprised at how early it still was – and she heated up some water, focusing so closely on her actions that she prevented herself from dwelling on anything else, just for the moment.

With the tea fixed, tea bags brewing, and a bit of cream and honey in each cup, she stopped by the study to pick the postcard up off her desk, and then she went upstairs and nudged gently at Natalie's door.

"Yeah, come in."

She went in – Natalie was, indeed, listening to some appropriately brooding Alanis Morissette – she was curled up in her window seat, looking down into the small, quaint brownstone backyard, her hair messily tied into a braid. The cordless phone was sitting next to her. Jenny's eyes fell to it and, finally looking over, Natalie noticed.

"I tried calling Jess," Natalie said dully. "He didn't answer." She looked towards the window. "He's probably in jail," she said dryly.

It was a jest, but Jenny arched a brow warily – with that kid, she was never really sure. She came over and nudged Natalie's feet, sitting down on the seat with her. She handed Natalie her teacup silently, and with it, the postcard.

Natalie blew hair out of her face, sitting forward.

"What's this?" she asked hoarsely.

Her eyes were still red – she'd clearly been crying.

Jenny took a deep breath.

"It's the last postcard. Melly said it came after she sent the box," she explained. She inclined her head. "If you look, you'll see that – has the right phone number," she said. "A few more days, and you'd have been able to call and he'd have been…on the other end," Jenny trailed off. She smiled a little wryly. "It seems the fates were generally conspiring towards a point of inevitable contact," she admitted, thinking of something her mother had said on the phone.

Natalie read over the postcard, pressed it to her chest, and let it rest there, cradling her cup in her palms and looking down into the steaming brew.

"What did Grandpa Jack say?" she asked after a moment.

Jenny steeled herself.

"That Shannon and Kelly died in a car accident last year," she confirmed. "That they were buried in Stillwater, and your grandfather saw him then, but hadn't seen him since."

Natalie looked up, something strange glinting in her eyes.

"He went back for their funeral," she said.

Jenny nodded.

"He went back for a funeral," she said, "just like you did."

Jenny tilted her head, confused – and then she nodded again, slowly; she had gone back to Stillwater to bury her father, and Gibbs – Gibbs had ultimately gone back to bury his loved ones, too; in the same place he buried his mother.

"Everything is buried there," Natalie said abruptly – it was eerie, the way she said it; like she was discovering something – like she was reading Jenny's mind.

"Natalie?" Jenny asked, when Natalie stared with guarded eyes for too long.

Natalie blinked; she shook her head.

"Why does _everything_ go back to Stillwater?" she hissed – not angrily, but just…uncertainly.

Jenny reached out and nudged her chin lightly, winking a little sadly.

"Because we had you there," she said.

Natalie looked at her strangely again, blinking slowly. She swallowed, and then she curled up a little more, pulling her teacup close, leaning her head against the window. She stared outside for a moment, at the brightening sun, at the Saturday before her, and she turned her eyes slightly, peering through her lashes at Jenny.

"You said this wasn't over," she reminded her quietly.

"No," Jenny agreed.

She took a deep breath.

"You need to let me talk to your father," she said, with what she hoped was firm, but kind, finality. "The last time he lost someone was very – dark," she said honestly. "You need to let me talk to him before anything goes a single step further."

To her surprise, Natalie just nodded.

"Okay."

She was rattled, clearly shaken - by all of this, by the information that was hanging over her, by the information she'd been given – and she desperately wanted to know what it was her mother was supposed to tell her, going to tell her, but she also just wanted to – take a breath, sleep – bury herself in a science project, maybe.

She'd taken on too much; maybe she should have listened – but even as she thought she should have listened, she felt fiercely proud and unburdened for having taken a risk.

Jenny reached out and stroked her hair affectionately, catching her daughter's eye.

Natalie looked at her intently.

"He wants you to tell me something, Mom," she said quietly.

Jenny swallowed hard, her heart racing.

"Why haven't I seen him since that day on the beach?" Natalie asked, lost, her voice cracking. She set aside her tea, and leaned forward, letting Jenny put her arms around her.

Jenny rested her cheek on Natalie's head, and sighed – truth be told, she wasn't sure her story – her tale of the letter she'd left Gibbs, and the way she'd left Gibbs, would answer that; so many different things had happened since then to bring them where they all were now. She wanted to get a feel for him before she made a decision –

"We can still go to brunch, Natalie," she offered bravely.

"I don't want to talk anymore today," Natalie whispered.

Jenny nodded, and rubbed her back soothingly – and she was relieved, because for the moment, her daughter needed her, her daughter loved her, and crawling underneath Jenny's flesh was the dread and the fear that once she knew all the facts, Natalie would resent her, even hate her – that their relationship would be ruined – and for the moment, Jenny didn't want to talk anymore, either, because until she was face to face with Gibbs again, there were too many unknown variables.

* * *

"I have been draggin' around  
your sensitive ego."  
Miranda Lambert; Baggage Claim

* * *

 _*Note: Jenny does not actually know/has not put it together that she even vaguely knows Gibbs' "Shannon." Shannon Fielding is mentioned Jenny's graduation in Stillwater High, and Jenny did know who she was, but she does not know that that's the Shannon whom Gibbs married. Yet._

 _feedback appreciated !_

 _-alexandra_


	3. Girls

_a/n: confrontational chapter, part 1_

* * *

Washington, D.C. and Metro Area: 1999

Girls

* * *

To her daughter's vocal and passive-aggressive chagrin, Jenny Shepard decided to wait a week – not even a full week, a mere work week – before she approached Gibbs. That is, before she approached him for what promised to be a deeply personal, and probably painful, heart-to-heart – professionally, it seemed that since she had made the startling discovery that they worked on separate floors in the same building, she ran into him about every five minutes.

She ran into him, or she ran into the dog, because when Gibbs was away in the field, Bugsy played in Abby's lab.

All week – Monday through Friday – she'd felt like Franks and McLane were deliberately preventing any sort of cataclysmic event; despite how often she ran into Gibbs, she was never specifically alone with him, hence she hadn't exactly made any plans to meet with him. She'd originally had wild ideas of asking him to meet her somewhere – for coffee, for breakfast Saturday, for something – but her better instincts persuaded her that with their history, public places just weren't a good idea. She didn't want to put him – them, really – in any situation in which they felt constricted, like they couldn't really, honestly discuss things, because that would just stunt an already impossible task.

The week long wait wasn't a tactic to spite Natalie – despite what Natalie seemed to _think,_ once she recovered from her shock and began pestering Jenny relentlessly – it was to give Gibbs a chance to settle things in his head, to give Jenny herself some time to – adjust. On top of that, she'd wanted one more conversation with Franks or McLane – in the end, it had been Franks – to glean a little more information on what exactly had happened to Gibbs in Paris.

Franks had said, quite bluntly, that most of the case was sealed, need-to-know, and the CIA – he did mention, abruptly, the CIA – would not allow her access just to snoop about an ex-boyfriend. In reference to Gibbs, he was a little tight-lipped – which Jenny respected, since Franks was his partner – and all he'd given her, in no uncertain terms, was the callous remark of: _"It really fucked him up, Shepard."_

That remark resonated with her, loud and clear.

It resonated with her, echoing around in her head, as she stood on his doorstep Saturday morning, probably in the same way Natalie had stood last week during her devious little scheme, and she tried to keep her mind open for what he had to say. More than anything, she was here to see what state of mind he was in – and find out why, if she could, he'd reached out to Natalie.

She had a terrible feeling it might be to assuage some grief over Kelly, and as much as her heart broke for him concerning that, she was not going to allow her daughter to be used as a replacement or a Band-Aid.

She rang the doorbell of the homey, picturesque little house – complete with a white picket fence – for a third time, anxiety rising in her chest – she supposed she should have called; he might be out – but the word around NCIS was, if he wasn't at the office, he was at home, holed up in his basement – then, maybe he hadn't heard the bell from down there.

Her finger hesitated over the bell, contemplating a fourth ring, when the door was suddenly wrenched open. She took a step back – and that turned out to be a good move, because she avoided being leapt on by the notorious Bugsy.

Instead, the dog, darted forward, rubbed her nose on Jenny's jeans, and barked loudly, wagging her tail. She pawed at Jenny's ankle, and it took a moment for Gibbs to lazily give a snap of his fingers and order the dog to back off.

Jenny raised her eyes, daunted, as Bugsy dashed around her legs and pranced into the yard, excited to be out in the cool sun. There he stood, in wrinkled clothing, a tired look in his familiar blue eyes – ghost of her past, in the flesh. He considered her silently; a muscle in his jaw twitched tensely.

"If I'd known you were comin' over, I'd've dyed my hair," he said, absolutely deadpan.

Jenny flushed pink, sharply remembering her initial shock over the silver locks she'd once known to be dark brown. It was fair shock, though – he'd been as young as she was when Natalie was born, after all; she'd hardly expected him to have gone grey in his early thirties.

"May I come in?" she asked simply.

He seemed to genuinely consider it, and for a terrible moment she thought he'd slam the door in her face. He stepped back, though – stiffly – and pulled the door open a little more, so she could slip through, past the threshold; into the house. He moved past her to shut the door – she noticed he left Bugsy outside – and she took a few steps forward, looking around.

"I rang the doorbell," she said, desperately unsure of what to say. "Several times." She didn't meant it to sound accusatory, she was just…trying to fill the silence.

"Doesn't work," Gibbs grunted. He gestured, though she didn't see it with her back turned. "Never hooked up the sound."

He and Shannon had lived in the house for barely three months while he trained for Embassy command. There was a lot of stuff he'd never gotten around to that would have made it a permanent home. A lot of stuff he might never get around to, now, because he couldn't bear to make it a real home without her, and yet he couldn't bear to let her dream home go.

"Oh," Jenny said softly, turning towards him. "I guess I could have stood there for ages, if you hadn't been letting the dog out," she said lamely.

He shrugged, standing in front of the door, arms at his sides.

"You'd have walked in eventually," he said bluntly. "Door's unlocked. Everyone walks in." He jerked his thumb at the door. "Besides, Bugsy heard your car door," he added gruffly.

Jenny raised her brows slightly, taken back; maybe a bit amused.

"So you knew I was there?"

He gave a slight shrug, a noncommittal grunt.

"You just let me stand there?"

He arched an eyebrow just barely, and she swore she saw a little bit of smugness flash in his eyes before his face was blank, tired, unreadable, again. He slid his hands halfway into his pockets, and gave her another little half-shrug.

"S'cold outside, Jenny," he said plainly. "Figured you could use a good sweat."

She didn't miss the double meaning of his words by a longshot, and she swallowed, glancing behind her – the place was so bare, so empty; she now understood the passing remark Natalie had made about how it looked like some sort of real estate grave, like no one really lived there.

After a moment of watching her look around, he moved past her, careful not to touch her. He turned around, standing in the middle of the sparse living room, as if daring her to make a remark. She just looked at him – she felt like this moment had been building for years and years, she knew it had, and neither of them knew what the hell to do.

She wondered if it would be any easier if his wife and younger daughter were still in the picture – if they had some kind of mediator instead of just the long, harrowing shadow of the past.

"Why're you here?" he asked suddenly – abruptly.

Her mouth felt dry, and she realized she didn't have a straight answer, exactly – but she'd never had a clear and concise answer for him, on anything, and he knew that; maybe it's why he asked, to goad her. She tried to come up with something, and she floundered, casting around for sophisticated words – all she'd accomplished, since she was nineteen, and she couldn't get her bearings while she stood in front of the father of her child.

"To talk," she said finally. The words came out almost like a croak, and she cringed a little – she needed to sound more together, more confident; _surer_ of herself. She had to be able to resolve as much as she could, because at home, Natalie was waiting, probably starting to seethe – ready to pounce.

She chewed on the inside of her lip lightly.

"Isn't it unsafe to leave the door unlocked?" she asked suddenly.

He gave her a pointed look.

"I got a gun and a dog," he said flatly, "any lock on that door would be for an intruder's protection, not mine."

That sounded like something you'd hear in Stillwater – something her father would say; something Jackson Gibbs probably raised his son on. She almost smiled in spite of herself, but there was too much tension in the air, and her poor attempts at small talk were only prolonging the inevitable. He seemed to read her mind on that point.

"No point in small talk, Jen," he said, straightforward. "I'm tired of wastin' time."

She nodded, and he turned, beckoning half-heartedly.

"Basement," he said, indicating she should follow.

At the threshold of the skeletal kitchen, she asked, somewhat nervously:

"Why the basement?"

He shrugged, grunted; and she thought she heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'that's where the liquor is' – but as he opened a door to a laundry room and then started down some wooden stairs, all he said was:

"'M not gonna hurt you down here."

He said it dryly, almost sarcastically, and she frowned, following him slowly, her hand on the rail – lightly, so as not to catch a splinter, but firmly enough so that she could steady herself.

"I know you'd never hurt me, Jethro," she said, a little ferociously – it hurt, somewhat, that he'd think that's why she didn't want to go to the basement – that sort of cynical tone in his voice, the dark subtext of everything he'd said yet – it irked her; it touched something sorrowful in her, and made her want to recoil.

"You never trusted me not to hurt Natalie," he said.

At the wooden counter, he turned to her, and she stopped on the bottom stair of the steps, frozen in place – momentarily startled that he really had wasted no time – dispensed with small talk, gotten right into it. She swallowed, lowering her hand from the bannister, and pressed it against her thigh, fingers balled into a fist to steady herself. Her brow furrowed.

"No, Jethro, that's – emotionally," she said. "My concerns were…emotional." She shook her head, lips parted. "You know that _I_ know," she said quietly, "you'd never hurt either of us physically. No matter how much," she paused, and took a deep breath, "you may have felt like killing me, back then." She was quiet for a beat. "Back when I left," she added, as if he needed the clarification.

Gibbs was facing his shelves, emptying nuts and bolts from Mason jars.

"I never wanted to kill you," he said flatly.

He didn't say it with much emotion, but the way he said it was entirely convincing, and it made her feel a little better – a little.

"You want a drink?" he asked, pointing to a bottle of whiskey.

"No, I have to drive," she said quietly. "I don't…I rarely drink, so I'm a lightweight…" she trailed off—she just felt a drink wouldn't be good for her right now, in case she wanted to leave in a hurry.

He nodded, and poured himself a small measure – more than a shot, but not quite a glass full. He turned, and leaned against the counter, flicking his eyes around the basement before they landed on her, and by then, she'd noticed – really noticed – the behemoth wood construction taking up most of the floor space, and her lips parted.

It looked something like – what she imagined a whale's skeleton might look like, after all the flesh had disintegrated – and there was a solid shape to it, to, something recognizable, something like –

"Is this a _boat_?" she asked softly.

"Will be," he said, without pride, as if it were natural and normal for a man to construct a full-blown boat in the basement – as if he were merely mentioning he was almost done doing some laundry. He hardly missed a beat, though, between that answer, and his next statement: "You thought I'd emotionally hurt Natalie?" he asked, bordering on aggressive. "Verbal abuse?" he asked astutely, edgily. "I wasn't good for her?"

Blinking, caught off guard – she felt ambushed; while she'd been asking about this handiwork, he was moving on with the start of – well, whatever they were starting. She stepped off the final step, realizing her error, and shook her head, a frustrated line forming on her forehead.

" _No_ , that's not – that's not what I meant either," she said, snappishly. "I don't think you'd hurt Natalie in any way – "

"Then what'd you mean, Jen?"

"I meant – unintentionally it might happen; the instability might not be good for her – growing up with uncertainties and – and unreliability," she answered quickly, easily able to remember all her old and well-used excuses.

The difference was, everything that had sounded so mature and well thought out when she was nineteen, and twenty, and even twenty-three or so, sounded stupid, and hollow, and empty – now.

Gibbs put down his drink and pointed between them.

"And after you ran off to California," he said dryly, "you figured I was the unreliable one."

It was a statement, not a question, and she looked away sharply and rolled her eyes a little – except she'd been expecting to get hit with that, and he wasn't entirely wrong. Vividly, she remembered how Natalie had cried, fussed, barely slept, and moped about those first few weeks in Los Angeles; how Melly had to tell her, apologetically, that toddlers had a hard time adjusting to upheaval.

"Is this where you want to start?" Jenny asked warily – on edge. "You want to have that fight again?"

"It wasn't a fight," he snapped. "It was a decision you made – that's where it starts, Jenny. Where the hell else would we start?"

"You want to re-hash the same old thing, the same subject – something neither of us can ever change – instead of moving forward?" she asked brazenly – hopefully, even.

His eyes flashed.

"It ain't like we've been over it a thousand times," he growled, eyes narrowing. "I never even got a good reason out of you, not one that had a goddamn _thing_ to do with Natalie – "

"You _know_ I didn't want her to grow up trapped in Stillwater!"

" _I wasn't going to leave the two of you in Stillwater!"_ he shouted suddenly, his jaw tightening. He took a step back, obviously unprepared for his own outburst, and then his eyes hardened again, as he looked at her. "You got a reason, Jen?" he asked. "You ever come up with one – you ever gonna show me some respect and give me the real one?"

She stepped towards him angrily.

"I don't know what you want to hear, Jethro, but it wasn't because I didn't care about you!" she said harshly. "It was never because my feelings changed, or because I thought you were unfit, or a bad father – "

He nodded curtly, cutting her off.

"Yeah, I got that, I finally figured that one out," he said tensely. "Saw it – written all over your face, that day at the beach, when you didn't bring her with you," he revealed perceptively. "I get that it wasn't me least, it wasn't all me," he snapped. "What I want to hear you say is that it was never about _Natalie_."

She compressed her lips, staring at him. After a moment, she flung her hand out, her cheeks paling slightly.

"What you – you want me to say I left because I felt like _getting a fucking tan_?" she asked, her voice cracking. "That I ran off to hit the shops on Rodeo Drive? _That's_ what you think of me?" She pushed her hair back. "You've – you're forgetting – or maybe you never realized – how unhappy I was, Jethro – I was _miserable_ – and after I left, you were so angry, you were so angry Jethro, that there was no way for us to keep going – "

"You had no reason to keep me from her!" Gibbs interrupted harshly. "You never had a reason, Jenny, and that's what I want out of you – I want to know why, every time, it was like pulling teeth to talk to my daughter, to see my daughter – "

"And I guess you valued your teeth more than your daughter, Jethro, 'cause you sure as hell stopped trying," she broke in coldly.

He set his jaw, and after a moment, turned away, reaching for his drink. He looked down at it, and turned his head away. Her heart slamming against her ribs, Jenny twisted to the side, covering her mouth a moment. She hadn't meant to sound so cruel, and she felt – a heavy guilt for it, because she knew part of her had been relieved when he backed off for good, relieved that she didn't have to deal with it anymore. She said it to hurt him, when really, despite natural curiosity and understandable desire to know him, Natalie hadn't been pining away – his lack of contact had gone almost unnoticed.

He tipped the liquid in his jar back and forth, and then shook his head, a muscle in his temple throbbing.

"You didn't want me in her life, Jen," he growled dangerously. "Don't know if it was really about me or her – maybe you had a reason after Desert Storm," he paused, "but you left it all up to me. You didn't lift a goddamn finger. You didn't tell me when you moved. That's not _leavin' the door open_ ," he quoted icily.

He turned to her suddenly, approaching.

"You aren't gonna stand there and tell me I abandoned her when you put every obstacle in my way," he snarled. "Don't say somethin' like that, Jen – _don't_ you ever tell me I value anything more than," he broke off, his face stricken suddenly, "than _my_ daughter."

She swallowed hard, and took a step back from him. She looked away quickly – that raw, deeply pained look in his blue eyes was too much; she knew he was thinking about the loss he'd suffered, and she couldn't look at him for a moment – she couldn't speak.

She had made it hard. She had made it so impossibly hard.

"Jethro," she began. "I didn't come here to fight – I really didn't," she said hoarsely.

"What the hell did you think was gonna happen?" he asked abrasively.

She reached out, turning her palms up.

"Natalie wants – this, she wants you," Jenny said. "I needed to see you, face to face, to make sure – there's animosity between us, Jethro," she said earnestly, pleading, "I don't want that to be part of her life – and if we can't get along – or if there's something – I mean, I'd heard you were dishonorably discharged, and then this – this thing, in Paris," she swallowed, licking her lips. "We need – ground rules, a plan – "

He shook his head, his brow darkening.

"It's not about me 'n' you, Jen," he said roughly. "It's about me 'n' Natalie – "

"I was afraid she'd be walking into your life with Shannon and Kelly and she'd get hurt if she wasn't – wanted – "

"My _wife_ ," Gibbs said, almost visibly struggling over the word, "never gave up on Natalie. She – _she_ – would have treated Natalie like her own."

"Natalie is mine," Jenny said, raising her voice. " _Those_ were the things we needed to discuss – and there's a lot of history, you know, you can't blame me for not wanting to have you pouring poison into Natalie's ears about me – "

"Jenny, Jesus Christ!" he bellowed. "Who the hell do you think I am?" He put his hand to his head, and then flung it out, as if he couldn't comprehend. "'M not a monster! I was never – that guy," his voice sounded strained, tortured, "The last thing I want to talk to Natalie about is you – even if I didn't want a goddamn thing to do with _you,_ you're her mother – you don't mess around with someone's _mother."_

The ferocity in his words, the meaning, wasn't lost on her – his mother, one of the most important and influential women in his life, had always received his protection – and he sounded so genuinely wounded that she'd think he was so vindictive, so vengeful – at least, so far gone in that mindset that he'd make Natalie feel miserable, or conflicted, just to get back at Jenny.

He grit his teeth, and shook his head heavily. Jenny was silent, and she looked away a moment, taking a deep breath. He turned away, pacing towards the shelves. He rubbed his jaw, and then he turned back, slamming his palm on the counter.

"I _wasn't_ dishonorably discharged," he growled. He didn't offer any other explanation. She blinked heavily, eyes on the ceiling, holding back hot, stinging tears.

"I know," she said finally. "I asked Franks." She swallowed, and then lowered her chin, looking at him. " _That's_ where I wanted to start. Not with – bad blood, anger from twelve years ago," she said shakily. "With that."

"With _what_?" he asked dangerously.

"What happened in Paris," she said, shakily. "Jethro, Natalie came home – she was so upset," Jenny said softly. "I called Jackson to ask him – "

Gibbs snorted, looking down.

"You kept up with him," he said derisively. "Clockwork, he told me," Gibbs sneered. "Natalie called. Holidays, his birthday – " Gibbs snapped. The look her gave her cut to the bone. He lifted his shoulders. "All that for my old man."

She didn't have a comeback for that. It was a mistake of hers – not a mistake in allowing Jackson to have a relationship with Natalie, but a mistake, a flaw in the life she'd led since leaving Stillwater, her way of thinking that had been so much about self-preservation and so little about actually making sacrifices – real sacrifices, like allowing Natalie to be accessible to her father, even if it mean Jenny had to be uncomfortable because she still loved a man who'd turned against her.

"It really shook her up, Jethro," Jenny said hoarsely. She was quiet a moment, and she came forward, resting her hand on the counter. She looked over at the shell of the boat, and then she came forward again, closer. She met his eyes. "Jethro?" she asked. "Shannon…and Kelly?"

His face was hard, unreadable – a mask of rock. He didn't look away, but he didn't seem to really be looking at her, either. When it was clear that he wasn't going to speak – maybe he couldn't – she took a hesitant breath, looking down at her hand. Her knuckles whitened slightly as she gripped the counter.

"After Ann died," she began, gently, "you were…impenetrable, closed off," she remembered quietly. "I know you don't – see it the same way, but we…our relationship, it suffered," she told him. "You were…angry, distraught – you had every right to be, and you have every right to be now," she said, emphatic, and intense. "You have to understand, though…I know you – what you're like – when you lose someone, and I can't imagine – "

"No," he said shortly, interrupting her. "You can't."

She nodded, licking her lips.

"Then you understand that I'm being cautious because your motives for – reaching out more aggressively could be tied to – losing them and – "

"They've got nothin' to do with Natalie, Jen," he interrupted harshly.

"Yes, they do," she said, standing her ground.

"Natalie's been mine since before – "

"Yes, but you moved on, you had another family, and you lost them!" Jenny broke in, raising her voice, "and I can't let you use Natalie as a tourniquet for that wound – she's not Kelly, Jethro, she's not – old enough or capable enough to heal you, and you can't – I can't put her in a situation where she's just a replacement, or you're wishing she was someone else – "

"You don't have a goddamn clue what you're talking about."

His voice was cold, hollow – an inside voice, not loud, not shouting, not dangerous, but so commanding that it silenced her almost instantly. His eyes were dark, rimmed with red, his jaw set – and she felt, physically, in her stomach, the chaos of emotions radiating off of him – and she almost looked away.

"There isn't anything in this world," he said huskily, "or any other," he continued, "that could replace Kelly."

Jenny blanched.

"That's not what I meant – oh, Jethro – I didn't mean," she swallowed, "I just mean that maybe, considering how – bad this has been – it isn't the right time for all of this," she tried.

Gibbs turned away from her. He walked to the boat, and picked something up. He lifted his arm, and then lowered it. He sat down on the edge, his head near one of the ribs, looking at her with that same, red, cold look.

"Kelly was three," he said hoarsely. "She's just a baby," he managed – and Jenny didn't miss the tense. "Natalie, Kelly," he said. "They aren't the same."

"But Jethro," Jenny said desperately, "don't you see why _now_ – after something like that – why I might be afraid that Natalie will get hurt by this if it's something you're not over yet," she broke off, uncertain – guilty.

She realized quite simply that he'd never be over it. She didn't know what she was trying to say, but she was worried for him, right now; she was scared for him, and sorry for him, and she distinctly felt that it wasn't a good environment for her daughter to be in.

Jenny licked her lips, her eyes stinging.

"I don't want Natalie to feel like she's your second choice," she said, her voice cracking.

Gibbs finally looked away from her. He stared for a long time at nothing, some spot on the floor, and then he raised his arm to his eyes, pressing his face firmly against his sleeve – in the crook of his arm. He shook his head imperceptibly.

He didn't know how to vocalize that it wasn't that at all – that maybe, obviously, he knew now that nothing in life was certain, that he should have told Jenny to go to hell years ago and moved mountains to know Natalie, to have a relationship with her – but he hadn't, and now, he couldn't stand the thought of not knowing his child when she was there, living, breathing, for him to know; he already knew what it was like to truly never have the chance to see a daughter again.

He heard her move closer, felt her rest her hand on the back of his neck and stroke gently.

"I'm sorry, Jethro," she said, helpless – it was all anyone ever said, and it never helped; it was just a testament to the finality of what had happened, and what he'd lost.

She leaned forward and, strangely, she pressed a light kiss to his temple, squeezing his shoulder.

"I know you don't believe me," she said, husky. "I am _not_ out to get you," she swore softly. "I need to know – I want you to tell me why, now," she said, taking a deep breath, "you want this to work with Natalie."

She asked because – she knew he must have been happy with Shannon and Kelly; she knew that must have eased his troubles with Natalie, and where for so long it had been about her, and her insecurities, and her problems with her choices and with Jethro, it now really, sincerely was all about Natalie, and how she might be affected by this – and just like he had things he wanted to hear her say about her actions, she had things she wanted to hear him say – why since February nineteen ninety eight had he reached out so consistently, when before – he hadn't; when before, Shannon has primarily been the one to sign the cards.

He lifted his head, not quite looking at her for a moment. She didn't say anything to him, didn't look too hard at him – but it spoke to their history, to the level of intimacy they'd once had, and perhaps still shared, that he would have tears on his face in front of her – before now, she'd only seen him cry at his mother's funeral, and then it was to Natalie he'd turned for comfort – not Jenny. That memory, too, made her wary.

"I want to see my daughter, Jen," he said tiredly, his voice raw. "She's all I've got left."

Jenny squeezed his shoulder again, turning, hesitantly, and resting her chin very lightly on top of his head – he was still sitting, so she had the height to do it. As she contemplated the strangeness of their fight having turned into her sitting with him quietly, offering a gentle, comforting hand, she thought, with a feeling of ominous dread – of what he'd do, of what Natalie would do – that his answer wasn't necessarily the right one.

* * *

She didn't go home right away. In fact, she spent quite a bit of time driving around the suburbs that bordered the outskirts of D.C., before she finally found her way back to the Georgetown brownstone she and Natalie called home, and even then, she sat in the car for a long time, staring at the place.

It would have been an entirely unaffordable monster of a thing, if it weren't for everything her father had left her – Jasper Shepard's will had left everything to Jenny; his property, his remaining police pension, his military benefits – everything save for a small amount of money he'd been putting away every year, which was to be given to Natalie when she enrolled in university. For so many years Jenny and her father had been at odds, had been estranged, but at the last – the very last – he'd been good to her.

She sat in her car now, staring at the house, thinking about that – about how long her relationship with her own father had been broken, and how much it had bothered her, deep down; she thought about how fractured Gibbs' relationship was with his father, and she wondered if there was something in their DNA – hers and Gibbs' – that just didn't mesh with paternal authority.

She couldn't really blame this whole thing on outside forces though – not in any truly convincing way. Her problems with her father had stemmed from his pride and her colossal mistakes; Gibbs' problems with his were rooted in a fundamental difference of thought – Natalie had never had a chance to butt heads with her father, and Gibbs had never had a chance to alienate her.

And it was an awful, awful thing, Jenny thought, that just as she'd grown, and been confronted with her mistakes, and perhaps, slowly, even reconciled herself to the fact that Natalie did deserve, even need, a relationship with her father, the events of Jethro's life, events actually beyond her control, set her back to a decade-old way of thinking: that there was too much instability involved with him.

Her thinking that now, and her thinking that then, though – stemmed from two fundamentally different types of logic; mature versus childish, selfish versus objective – what was right for Jenny versus what was right for Natalie alone.

She sighed, rubbed her forehead, and got out of the car. She checked the mail, loitered at the edge of the driveway with the Saturday morning paper, and then slowly went up the path – it was a very difficult thing, to know she was walking into a conversation during which she'd most likely be forever changed in her daughter's eyes. She'd always known that eventually, Natalie would realize adults, even parents, were just people, and she'd fall from a pedestal – but she didn't know if she was ready to take a flying Olympic leap off of it.

The one significant thing she'd learned from being a mother – and a mother so young – though, was that it didn't matter _if_ she was ready; she _had to be_ ready: for the sake of her child.

With the paper tucked under her arm, she unlocked and opened the front door, kicking off her shoes in the hall. She immediately heard raucous laughter, and frowned – she hadn't told Natalie she could have anyone over while she was alone.

"Natalie?" she called.

Natalie came out of her room, followed almost immediately by Jess Hayden – and Jenny tried not to immediately show her displeasure, at least not in front of the boy. She set her teeth, and waited until they came downstairs.

Jess flashed her a smooth grin.

"Hey, Miss Shepard."

She glared at him lightly, but she didn't correct him – she really hated being called that; she preferred Natalie's friends to just call her Jenny, but with this little delinquent Natalie had taken such a shine to, she stuck with the more respectful requirement.

"Run those tests," Natalie said to Jess, "and then get back to me – and yeah, Tali's going to go see _Boys Don't Cry_ with me next week, so if you show up, definitely offer to buy her ticket," Natalie winked. She glanced at her mother. "You should probably go," she added.

"Coulda ducked out the window," Jess said, smirking.

Natalie rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, make us look real guilty – get out," she said fondly, shoving him lightly.

Jess pretended to tip his hat mockingly, and then left, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, and bounding down the front steps. When the door shut behind him, Jenny folded her arms, narrowing her eyes.

"A boy, when I'm not here? In your bedroom?" she asked sharply.

Natalie held up her hands.

"I promise I didn't surrender my virtue," she deadpanned. "You can check my bedsheets."

Scandalized, Jenny rolled her eyes.

"You know, a week ago, I might have trusted you on that," she said dryly. "In light of recent dishonesties," she said, a little dangerously.

Natalie frowned, a guilty look striking her eyes for a moment. She sighed, and shook her head. She put her hand over her heart.

"Cross my heart, hope to die, I swear I've never seen the penis of that guy."

Jenny tried extremely hard not to laugh. Instead, she just swatted Natalie's hand down from her heart, and rolled her eyes, beckoning her into the kitchen.

"What did you mean, about Tali and the movie – haven't you already seen _Boys Don't Cry_?"

"I loved it," Natalie said. "Jess is after Tali – I said I'd assist in facilitation, insofar as I won't allow him to hurt her."

"Jess and – _Tali_?"

"Yes," Natalie said bluntly. "I told you, Mom – I'm not into Jess."

Jenny sighed.

"He's got that bad boy vibe, Bug," she said warily. "It's attractive."

"Well _you_ date him then."

"Natalie Winter."

Natalie shrugged. Jenny chewed on her lip a moment, and turned to the coffee maker, turning it on, and reaching for some grinds.

"Mom," Natalie said. "Jess needs someone to believe in him, and someone to be a constant, and someone to not constantly tell him he's a burdensome piece of trash," she said flatly, referring to what she knew about Jess's home life. "But he's just a friend. Girls may flirt with the scoundrel, but they marry the good guy."

Jenny turned, eyebrow raised. She smirked.

"That completely contradicts your fanatical Han Solo fetish," she said.

Natalie leapt forward, her brow furrowing.

"Okay – if you payed attention for, like _, one second_ during _Star Wars_ you'd know that Han Solo is _not_ the scoundrel, he's the good guy – everyone knows that – he's honestly such a feminist, too, but all you pay attention to when we watch _Star Wars_ is Chewbacca's fur – "

"Well I want to know if he brushes it with a brush or if he grooms with his tongue!"

"MOM."

Jenny started laughing.

"I'm sorry, it's just – you take this so seriously – "

"I don't think Wookiee grooming habits are a _joke_ ," Natalie said, extremely seriously.

Jenny clamped her mouth shut, and arched her brows, turning back to her coffee. She sighed, shaking her head, and shrugged a little.

"Jokes aside," she said, straightforward, "and I know you get tired of my paranoia but – I need you to be able to talk to me about boys, and things you might – do with them," she said flatly. "You are not living at the Vatican, Natalie, if you need birth control, we'll get it; no questions asked."

She felt Natalie glaring at her.

"I'm not having sex," Natalie said. "I know you _think_ I'm blowing you off when I make light of it, but I don't think I can be clearer on that topic – I'm not going to risk even the barest point-nine percent fail rate of some methods – I'm not going to jeopardize MIT. Or NASA – okay, how did we get here – you walked in the door and suddenly we're talking about my chastity," Natalie broke off, rolling her eyes. "Unless Harrison Ford knocks on my door, I won't be stealing a condom from your medicine cabinet."

Jenny turned and glared at her.

"Stay out of my things," she growled, half-playfully.

"I noticed the box isn't open, and it's the same box that's been there a year," Natalie said smugly. She pursed her lips. "I'm sorry, Mommy."

"This conversation has taken an inappropriate turn," Jenny muttered to herself, going to the fridge for milk and creamer. She gathered the things, and then asked Natalie to get two mugs from the cabinet.

"Oh, I don't want any – I'm fine," Natalie demurred.

Jenny took the mugs, though, and got the coffee decanter, pouring a double portion, anyway. She glanced over her shoulder, took a deep breath.

"Milk and sugar, with a dash of coffee, that's your preference – yes?" Jenny asked – Natalie so rarely drank coffee, preferring sugary energy drinks of _Caf_ - _pow_!s, that Jenny often forgot.

"Yes, but I don't – "

"Sit down, we're going to talk," Jenny said matter-of-factly, "and you're going to need something to sip during awkward silences, and when you don't know what to say."

Natalie immediately planted herself in a chair, her eyes widening a little. Jenny still busied herself fixing the coffee – it was closer to noon now, and she should have considered bringing home lunch – she'd decided she was never going to be prepared for this, and her conversation with Gibbs this morning had shown her she was never going to really get a handle on how to justify or explain her actions, so she steeled herself to just – plunge in.

Two steaming mugs in hand, she turned, and sat down across from Natalie at the little kitchen table.

"You went to see him this morning," Natalie said – accused – as soon as Jenny met her eyes.

"Yes," Jenny agreed, without secrecy.

Natalie parted her lips.

"I thought – you were going to work this morning," she faltered. "If I can't lie to you, why can you lie to me?" she asked, flaring immediately.

"I was at NCIS this morning," Jenny said frankly. "I was checking some codes, and situating the intern – he's alone until Kirk comes in at noon," she said – Kirk almost always wanted to work the weekend shift; he was strange, in that way. "I took a detour on the way home."

Natalie looked affronted, ruffled; Jenny sighed.

"This way, you weren't sitting at home on edge all morning, or working yourself up – "

"I've been worked up – "

"I know, Natalie, I know," Jenny placated, holding up her hand. "Before I start, let me say that I _can't_ change anything that has happened in the past. I don't have that power. I want you to try not to get bogged down in what-could-have-beens."

"I know you can't change the past, Mom," Natalie said softly.

"Good," Jenny said dryly. "Try to hold on to that. You may think I have some eloquent, well-thought out speech to give you, considering I've been telling you that I have to figure it out for years, but I don't. After all this – happened – back then, there were probably only two people in the world who weren't angry with me: Melly, and Grandpa Jack," Jenny smiled faintly, "and that's because he and Gibbs are so at odds with each other all the time, they'll take a position just to piss the other off."

Jenny took a deep breath, and then took a long sip of coffee.

"I don't know where to start," she said simply, "so do you have a question you'd like to ask?"

Natalie licked her lips.

"Oh, wow – this is really happening?"

"This is happening."

Natalie closed her eyes.

"Okay," she said. "I – I don't have a specific question, Mom," she said weakly. "You understand – you understand I'm sitting here, and I have no idea what's about to come out? If I'm about to hear that he – cheated on you, or he was on the run from the law, or he just didn't want to be around – "

Jenny shook her head – so, this didn't need to be Natalie's lead, obviously; her mistake. She pushed her mug forward some, and reached out, placing her hands around Natalie's.

"Let's start with this," she said softly. She swallowed hard. "In the summer of nineteen eighty-seven, when you were two and a half, and Gibbs was at MOS training after boot camp, I packed up all of our things, had my mother place me a ticket at the counter at the Philadelphia Airport, told Gibbs' father I was visiting a friend, and I ran away from Stillwater in the middle of the night. Red-eye flight to Los Angeles."

Natalie blinked. Jenny waited. Her daughter lifted her shoulders a little.

"But…I _know_ that," she ventured uncertainly. "I've always known…we took a plane and went to California."

Jenny nodded.

"Right," she said quietly. She paused, and leaned back, pulling her hands back towards her. She interlocked them lightly, and looked at Natalie again. "Your father was in training, Natalie," she said simply. "He was planning on coming back, marrying me, and moving us to his first duty station."

Natalie didn't really say anything.

"You didn't marry him, though," she remarked.

Jenny gave her a look.

"I mean – obviously," Natalie said, flushing. She bit her lip. "But you changed your mind, that's fair – "

"Natalie, I didn't tell him I was leaving. He came back to Stillwater and I was gone. I sent him a letter from California," Jenny said finally, a little more forcefully – though she had to admit, it was heartening that Natalie's first reaction hadn't been total outrage and despair.

Natalie blinked a few times, slowly, and looked away.

" _Oh_ ," she said softly.

She reached up and pushed her hair back, and then, right on cue, she took a sip of coffee to fill the silence. She made a face, put the mug down, and looked back at Jenny, her expression indecipherable – Jenny tried to figure out if she was upset, or angry, or confused – but she could read nothing, not from Natalie's face, and not from her voice, when she spoke.

"You jilted him," she said slowly – not accusatory.

Jenny sighed heavily.

"We weren't – there was never a proposal, or a ring, or any of that, Bug, it was just an understanding that was there – our parents maybe even decided it for us, and Gibbs was okay with that – "

"But you didn't want to get married," Natalie said.

"Natalie, I was a teenager."

"Why didn't you want to marry him?" Natalie asked quietly. Her eyes searched Jenny's intently, refusing to relinquish the gaze, and Jenny reached up to touch her jaw, rubbing lightly.

"It's not that I didn't want to marry him," she said, struggling with an explanation. "I was still a kid – we both were," she said earnestly. "No one needs to get married at that age," she said emphatically. "It doesn't matter how mature you are, or how in love you think you are, it just isn't a good idea. It's too young."

Natalie chewed on her lip again, nodding a little – well she didn't feel like she could argue that. Five years from now, Natalie planned on being at least a sophomore at MIT; she couldn't imagine being married. But then –

"You already had me," Natalie ventured. "What was the big deal with getting married?"

"You don't just do something because – _because_!" Jenny broke off, appalled. "You're supposed to get married because you _love_ someone, not because you had a baby! Or because you feel pressured to by societal moral standards," she explained quickly. She shook her head. "Natalie, marriage is supposed to be a lifelong commitment and at that time, when I was seventeen, eighteen, and nineteen – I was still waking up some mornings wondering whose baby was crying! Committing myself to being a good, responsible mother was a daily battle!"

Natalie leaned back, plucking at the handle of her mug. She thought about it for a minute, and she tilted her head back and forth.

"Did you…and him," she began, "love each other? I know I was an accident, but I guess you've never really told me – if you were dating, or," she trailed off, "or what."

Jenny compressed her lips. She ran her hand through her hair, swallowing down some heavy emotions, and smiled faintly.

"I met your father when I was in middle school," she said. "We started dating when he was fifteen, I was fourteen. We said we loved each other…we did," she confessed. "Natalie, I loved him, at that age – at your age – you don't really get that intimate with someone unless you love, or at least very distinctly think you love, the other person – and of course after I had you, it just creates a bond," she sighed, breaking off.

Natalie blinked at her.

"You lost your _virginity_ when you were _fourteen?"_ she asked, incredulous.

Jenny blinked back.

"What?"

No - I was - it was after my fifteenth - Natalie, that's not really the _point."_ She paused stiffly. _"Fifteen_ isn't any more okay," she added sharply.

Natalie held up her hands, her lips pursing. Jenny glared at her, uncomfortable, and then swallowed, getting back to the point:

"Sure, it was a small town love story, babe," she said heavily. "I loved him, but I was miserable there – there were so many other things, besides love."

Natalie leaned forward.

" _What_ other things?" she asked intently.

Jenny sighed shakily.

"Before I got pregnant, we always dreamed about leaving Stillwater – I was off to fancy schools, he was going to join the Marines – he always wanted to be a Marine – but after you, we were struggling to survive. He _barely_ graduated, I _didn't_ graduate," she said – though a lot of the academic stuff, Natalie knew; she'd grown up studying with her mother. "Our fathers were always hard on us, down on us, he was working more than forty hours a week, I was trapped, the whole town thought I was a slut, a complete fuck up," Jenny's mouth felt dry, as those feelings came rushing back, "and then his mother got sick."

"Gramma Ann," Natalie said immediately.

Jenny nodded weakly, smiling a sad smile.

"You remember her?" she asked.

Natalie shrugged.

"I remember…I feel warm when you mention her. I think she made me feel loved," Natalie murmured.

"She loved you so much," Jenny said emphatically. "She got cancer, lung cancer. Treatment almost financially ruined them – your father, your grandfather, and on top of that, she was the only person who never, ever treated me, or you, or Gibbs, like we were pariahs. She was a saint, Natalie. She was an _angel_. When she died, everything fell apart."

Natalie put her hands around her mug tightly, knuckles whitening. Her brow furrowed, and she looked to the side, thinking hard. She nodded very lightly.

"I remember the funeral," she said. "Vague images," she added softly.

Jenny nodded.

"Gibbs hated Stillwater as much as I did, and when we had you, he gave up the Marines idea; he stayed to help, while I was in school – he stayed for me, for you, for his mother – but when she died," Jenny shook her head. "Nothing was going to keep him there. Not even us. He enlisted. He was at boot camp in six months."

Natalie nodded.

"You hated it there, too," she said. "You wanted to leave – you left," Natalie went on, looking at Jenny intently. "Why was it such a problem when he – "

"It wasn't such a," Jenny started, and then broke off. "He thought he was doing the best he could, doing right by us – but he was also thinking about himself – Natalie, he was under so much pressure. He never slept, all these people depended on him, and he was barely an adult – he wanted to escape as much as he wanted to do right by me," she explained astutely. "And you have to understand … between school, work, all the cancer treatments – we weren't in a relationship anymore, we were parents, kids who had a baby and saw each other in free moments – we didn't even live together," she remembered, her voice cracking.

She licked her lips, sitting forward again.

"We didn't really know each other anymore, and on top of that, those years are when you're supposed to figure out who you are, who you're going to be – and we were trapped. Then he left, and I was there in Stillwater, and without him it was so – suffocating and depressing," she broke off again.

Jenny rubbed her jaw lightly, and then went on, holding her hands out in a matter-of-fact gesture.

"He had ten days of leave after boot camp, and then he had to go right back to training – and after that, if he'd gotten deployed, even if we were married, I'd have been stuck in Stillwater. He was so caught up in the military and trying to get over losing his mother – he never called me, and I felt more and more isolated and alone," she confided honestly. "And your father…he was always so stoic, he'd just take it as it came – and he's traditional, he's a good ol' boy – he never would have understood – "

"But what did he do?" Natalie interrupted abruptly.

Jenny blinked tiredly.

"It wasn't anything he _did_ , nothing – if you want me to say he cheated, or he started slacking on child support, or he didn't want you, I can't tell you that – I just didn't think any of what he planned was going to work, and I thought he was being delusional, and I was jealous that he was doing what he'd always talked about and I was just the ruined girl in Stillwater!"

"If you wanted to – needed to – go live with Melly, though, why didn't you – "

"I didn't think he'd understand," Jenny said desperately. "I didn't think I could look into his eyes and stand my ground. I thought he'd just convince me, like he always had, that it was going to be fine, and perfect – and it was easy to believe that, when Ann was around – but with Ann gone, and Gibbs away, and my relationship with my father in tatters," she shook her head, and shrugged. "I thought he might want off the hook. I was too afraid to hurt him. I wanted to run. So I did."

Natalie put her elbows on the table, placed her knuckles against her face, looking at her mother. A lot of this, she'd implicitly knew, somehow instinctively understood, but it didn't all mesh for her – she definitely understood not getting married, and even why they would have broken up, if she'd really left him with a Dear John –

"Okay," Natalie said, swallowing. "Okay – but why didn't you stay together?" she asked. "I, um," she began. "Military families live apart all the time."

Jenny set her shoulders back steadily.

"Ah, well, he was angry," she said honestly. "He was – he was angry, he was hurt, and that's – that's not Jethro, really, Natalie…if we were going to be together, and we could, on a base with him, or nearby, he couldn't fathom me choosing to live somewhere else - -but California was good for us, it had better opportunities, more progressive people – we weren't shunned," she broke off, trying to stay on topic. "With teenagers – most teenagers," she said, smiling a little wryly, "things that adults can handle and figure out – they're cataclysmic, doomsday events – and to Gibbs, me running off meant, ultimately, that I hated him. And to me, Gibbs not being able to understand why I didn't want to get married meant he was primitive, even mean."

Natalie shook her head, brow furrowed.

"I know what it's like to be a teenager," she said hoarsely. "Mom, I know I've never had a baby, but I can grasp some idea of what it's like to be a teenager," she pointed to herself, fourteen, emphatically, "and then add the infant-stress catalyst to that, and a relationship – and okay, it didn't work, because – well, high school sweethearts never work, anyway – and you – ditched him, and that was harsh, and he wouldn't forgive it but why," Natalie said, catching her breath, "why does that have anything to do with _me_?"

Jenny, throughout this whole conversation so far, had felt it was going well – Natalie was taking information in, processing it, and asking valid and necessary question; she was trying to understand and, with miraculous maturity, she was doing it without being hostile, accusatory, or overdramatic – but now came the point where Jenny had to explain the exclusion of Jethro, and she just wasn't sure how she was going to answer those questions.

"He just…gave up on _me_ , because he couldn't make it work with you?" Natalie asked, her voice hitching. "He came to see me, he used to send me – presents – but _I'm_ collateral damage? I can understand teenage immaturity, but he could have put up with you for me – "

"Natalie," Jenny said gently, interrupting. "Natalie, I don't think it's fair to say he gave up on you."

Natalie threw an arm out.

"But…he _did_ , it seems like, and I guess I could be mad at you for leaving him, but you were always a good mom, and he got to do his thing, so why shouldn't you do yours? And you had divorced parents, but they both loved you – "

"Your father loves you," Jenny said emphatically. She put her hand over her mouth, and then sat up straight. "Here's – what I need you to try to understand," she said shakily, her face turning pale. "I was nineteen, and I'd just moved across the country. My boyfriend and I broke up, and he – he damn near hated me for running off, for giving up on us – and you, you cried all the time for a while, and I was trying to start fresh, to get myself a new start, and to get you happy, and settled," she broke off, hesitating. "I was afraid that if we didn't move forward," she broke off again.

Jenny sat back, and stared at Natalie for a full minute, trying to find her next words.

"We never got the courts involved with anything, Nat," she said finally. "I had full custody of you. He knew, with his military obligations, he'd never get anything in court, and if he deserted, he'd go to jail – and I knew that," she admitted. "And considering all that…I was afraid his involvement would be too – unstable."

Natalie, her brow furrowing, shook her head a little.

"Was he flaky, unreliable?"

Jenny hesitated.

"No – not per se," she said quietly. "I was so insecure about my own choices, my own job as a mother, and I never really put myself in his shoes, so I thought he wasn't calling enough, or wasn't doing enough, and I didn't consider the pressure and restrictions he had – I thought he'd confuse you, or that he'd take out his anger on you – I was young, Natalie, so, you know, I was jealous of how you'd love him if he only showed up with gifts, or called to be nice, and I had to do all the good and the bad – "

"But that was your fault. That was your choice," Natalie said, her expression suddenly taking on a tense shadow. "You're the one who left him."

"Yes," Jenny said hoarsely. "But I want to reiterate again that I was young, and so was he, and the way I looked at the world then was different, and I needed a clean break to move on, and it was hard for me to get over him if he was always around," she paused.

She started to see realization dawn somewhere in Natalie's blue eyes, and she winced, looking away.

"Natalie," she began.

"Did you _deliberately_ keep him away from me because it was easier for _you_?" Natalie demanded, the words bursting out icily.

Jenny held up her hands quickly.

"Bug," she said firmly. "I grew up a lot, quickly, when I had you, but I was still a teenage girl. I was selfish, and mercurial, and quite a bit of the time, I was on the verge of despair because I was so scared for you, and the future I needed to give you – and I made selfish choices, but it wasn't all because I wanted you to myself," she said – she saw Natalie open her mouth, bristle, and she shook her head sharply, "Your father was deployed to Desert Storm – and after that, I didn't hear a damn thing from him, phone call or otherwise, until he called Melly to ask to see you. Desert Storm was when Shannon started signing the cards. He did quit trying. I don't think it had anything to do with you, but out of nowhere, when he wanted to have a relationship with you, when you were seven, eight? That made me nervous. That was shaking things up. That was unstable. He was going to Quantico, and he wanted to see you, and I was dating Brent, and – "

"You _saw_ him when I was eight? You _talked_ to him? _And he wanted to see me?_ " Natalie asked rapidly.

"Natalie, at that point – he was married! I didn't know for sure, then, but now I know, and for all I knew, his wife was making him see you, or he was going to just up and disappear again – it was different when he was absent while you were four, and you never thought about it, but I couldn't have him gallivanting in and out when you were old enough to be hurt, and to think it was your fault – "

"But it was all your fault, the whole time!" Natalie shouted, standing up.

"I'm not denying that I made mistakes, honey, but you have to understand – there were other issues to consider; I'm almost certain that his issues after Desert Storm were from PTSD, and then he proposed this idea of reconnection right when he was moving to Virginia – I didn't want you to have a complex about your father – "

" _I do have a complex about my father!"_

Jenny compressed her lips, and held up her hands.

"I know," she admitted bluntly. "I am not saying that I am blameless. And I know that I am obligated to tell you – no matter how bad it makes me look – that your father wanted to be in your life. And he was doing his best, given his age, and what I'd done, up until a point. And after that – after I told him he couldn't come to me without a plan, or when he was about to move across the country – that's when we truly lost touch."

"And when you started hiding letters," snarled Natalie.

"Those were going to Melly's old house and you know it," Jenny snapped. "I had a thousand other things on my mind – and then when my father died, when you asked in Stillwater – well then I'd just found out he was married, and had a baby, and I was devastated, because he was living in Paris, with his little family, just like he'd told me he'd do for me – get me out, make me happy – and I threw all that away," Jenny shook her head. "At that point, he didn't know where I was, and I didn't know about his life – "

"Why didn't you pick up a phone, Mom?" Natalie shrieked. "Why didn't you let me decide – "

"Oh for _God's_ sake, Natalie, when you were eight and you thought Brent was going to be your daddy?" Jenny interrupted tensely.

Natalie pushed her hair back. She folded her arms. She turned around, paced back, and then sat down, putting her face in her hands. A moment later, she lifted it, and her eyes were shining, red and watery.

"I feel like you robbed me of him on purpose," she gasped, her voice cracking.

"He was all over the place," Jenny pleaded desperately. "I did make it hard, and I – did a few things wrong – but he dropped the ball, from my point of view, and he relished blaming it all on me, all of it, and you were thriving – I saw no reason to disrupt that."

"Mom, you had a broken home," Natalie insisted. "Your parents were apart – Melly is the flightiest person on earth! Melly forgot to pick you up from the airport once!" Natalie cried, recounting an old story she knew. "You turned out okay! You got both of your parents despite their differences – "

Jenny held up her hands tiredly.

"I'm not blaming this on my mother," she said dryly, "but to say I turned out 'okay' could be considered a stretch. I was pregnant at fifteen, Natalie. That's what came of me not having my mother in a stable way and probably, on some deeply unexplored level, me wanting her attention."

"So you thought I'd be more likely to get pregnant if I wanted to keep Dad's attention all the time, than if I just never had relationship with him? It's all about you being afraid I'll get pregnant?"

"I live in absolute _terror_ that you will get pregnant," Jenny said, "but that wasn't the whole impetus – my parents were well into adulthood when they worked out their differences; Jethro and I were basically babies ourselves – "

"You've said that already. You've said that a hundred times," Natalie interrupted. She rubbed her eyes, her face crimpling slightly. She pushed her hair back and then, tears slipping out of her eyes, she took a deep breath. "This is such a mess," she whimpered. She closed her eyes tightly. "But it never would have gotten to the point of excluding him if you hadn't left."

"Leaving Stillwater was the right thing to do, Natalie," Jenny said. "All that you have – there's no guarantee my life would have turned out like Shannon's did, with him, that was a fluke – and you have this school, these opportunities, because of California, and NCIS – "

"Yeah," Natalie said hoarsely, "I guess if you'd stayed with him, we'd be the ones dead in Paris."

Jenny leaned back like she'd been slapped. She turned pale, and slowly, she sat down.

"I don't think there's any excuse for what you did," Natalie said quietly, her voice breaking.

"Bug, it wasn't all me," Jenny said shakily. "It wasn't just me, just some cold scheme to cut Gibbs out – there's lack of communication, his mistakes, my mistakes – but you can't tell me that I've given you a bad life because of it – "

Natalie looked up harshly.

"I _don't_ think that," she said violently. "I'm grateful for everything I have. Every single thing you've done to get me to Thomas Jefferson but," Natalie stood up, palms planted firmly on the table, "I still get to be mad at you, Mom. And you don't get to keep him away from me anymore."

Jenny let the silence sit for a moment. She tilted her head slightly, and pointed.

"Please sit down, Natalie."

Natalie looked like she would protest. She folded her arms, and then sat down extremely heavily, making a point of scraping her chair forward. Jenny was quiet again, for a while, and then sat forward.

"Your father is not in a good place," she said tiredly. "When I was with him this morning…I wanted to see why he's so interested in you, now…after Kelly died," she said hesitantly. "I don't think that right now – just right now, Natalie, I don't mean ever – it's a good time for you to try and build something with him. I think you need to steer – "

"Why?" Natalie interrupted coldly.

In that moment – with her set jaw, her dark eyes, and the stubborn, impenetrable look in her face – she looked exactly like her father.

"Because," Jenny said hoarsely, "I don't want him to use you as an anti-depressant. I don't want you to feel like you're just there because he lost Kelly. I don't want it to not work, and him not be able to connect, because he hasn't worked through this. You forget, Natalie – I knew him the last time he lost someone. And this," she paused. "Imagine how upset you were to find out. Imagine how upset I was – you can't relate; you're not a mother; I can at least relate to the feeling of devastation I get when I even think someone could happen to you – and if I magnify that by millions, I still can't fathom the kind of pain Jethro is feeling. And you are not going to be a casualty of that."

Natalie grit her teeth, and frustrated, Jenny said:

"He shouldn't have put that trauma on you; he shouldn't have told you so - he didn't handle this right!" she tried to emphasize.

"Was he supposed to lie to me?" Natalie demanded shrilly. "At least he told the the truth - up front. No _posturing."_

Falling silence, Natalie stared at her, that same, Gibbs-like expression on her face; studying her mother.

"When I placed soccer, and I used to get hurt," she said suddenly, abruptly, "you used to tell me it would toughen me up. Build character. Get up, Bug, and get back in that game," she quoted. "Fight. Be strong. Why don't you look at this the same way?"

Jenny didn't answer. She didn't – really have anything to say, to something that – insightful, something that disarmed her logic.

Natalie leaned forward, and pointed to herself.

"If I get hurt, I'll heal. I'll know that at least I tried. I fought," she said, determined. "You're my mother. You're here to protect me. But I think you've been protecting yourself. And now I think it's your job to be there if I need you, _if_ , he hurts me," she said. "But I don't think he will."

"Natalie," Jenny said sharply. "You cannot build a relationship with someone if both parties aren't mentally healthy and secure and at least somewhat content and in control – that is a fundamental concept that I need you to recognize – "

"I'm fourteen," Natalie snapped. "I'm not mature enough yet," she said, sarcastic. She stood up, pushing her chair back. "I want to hear his story now," she said. She was quiet a moment, and then she turned away. "I'm going to Tali's."

"No," Jenny said abruptly. "The last time – "

"I swear to God, I'm not going to his house!" Natalie shouted. "I'm not going to do that again, not without any thought, or without thinking – I just don't want to be around you while I figure some things out and calm down – "

"That may be," Jenny said tightly. "But I don't trust you. You are not leaving this house."

Natalie marched out of the kitchen, and startled, Jenny went after her.

"Natalie Winter Gibbs! Don't you _dare_ \- "

"I'm going to my room," she said, whirling around. "I could be doing drugs, Mom," she sneered. "I could be shoplifting or skipping school or having _sex_ ," she added pointedly, "but I'm a straight A honors student with aspirations to NASA and god forbid," she snarled, "I want to talk to my father." She grit her teeth.

Jenny saw the frustration and helpless anger in her eyes, and she narrowed them, catching Natalie's arm.

"Go to your room," she said sharply. "Don't go behind my back with Gibbs, Natalie," she said dangerously, not sure what she was going to do – not sure how she was going to stop it. "For now, this is what's best. I am your mother, and – "

"You're such a bitch," Natalie hissed coolly.

Jenny blinked, shocked. In a split second, she reacted impulsively; she dropped Natalie's arm like she'd been burned, and then she smacked her on the cheek – not hard enough to leave a red mark, but enough to startle Natalie so much she stepped back and tripped over the stairs, catching the bannister to keep from falling.

Natalie recovered after a moment, and a curious look came into her eyes, vindictive almost; meaner than anything Jenny had ever seen from her daughter. She nodded her head, and then leaned forward, glaring at Jenny.

"Well," she said quietly. "I bet Dad's never hit me."

She turned, and went up the stairs, and Jenny turned around and sat down on the bottom step, covering her face. Her stomach flipped, and she felt nauseous; she felt like getting sick. She'd never – she'd never hit Natalie before – Gibbs definitely hadn't – she'd just lost her cool, she'd been so hurt –

She felt so small, and young, and stupid again, and so impossibly frustrated, because now there was no chance of making Natalie understand that regardless of how things had started, now Jenny _was_ thinking in terms of caution, of protection, stability, and not just self-preservation, and petty jealousies and teenage dramatics.

Natalie's door slammed violently, and sitting on the bottom step, her face in her hands, Jenny started to cry – heavy, painful sobs, like she hadn't cried since she lost her own father, and she thought, heavily, about the last time she'd cried over her situation with Gibbs, and how she'd promised Natalie it was never going to happen again.

How naïve she'd been.

* * *

It was one of those frustrating winter days – eerily bright, cheerily sunny, and yet biting cold; day that looked as pretty and inviting as summer but was only deceptively so. Sitting Native American style – or crisscross applesauce, as she preferred to call it, to be more politically correct – on a concrete slab outside of a museum, Natalie bent over slightly, ignoring the nippy air and basking in the wintery light.

She liked the colder seasons. She felt like she was obligated to, considering her middle name – but she thought the cold was beautiful, and the dead period that struck the fauna and flora was mystic and intriguing – basically, it reminded her of Space, and she reveled in that. She'd come here, to one of her favorite D.C. places, after school.

The guise of doing homework was present, but in reality, as she had for the past few days, she was bogged down in thoughts and second-guesses, and she was putting pen to paper over and over again, crumpling things up – and starting over.

She couldn't sort out her thoughts.

She looked up, away from the notebook paper in her book – she had a history book open to the section on the Space Race, and a physics book lying next to her. She had a pen in her hand, and her long hair tied back in a careless braid that was loosening by the minute, every time the wind rustled it. She stared straight at the geometric Delta Solar, her favorite sculpture outside of her favorite museum – The National Air and Space Museum.

She nearly leapt out of her skin when a bag fell next to her, landing with a _thump_ at her feet. Next came two shadows, and when she looked up, there was Jess and –

"Emily?" she asked, slightly taken aback.

Emily Richards hated D.C., and unless she was visiting her Georgetown boyfriend, she avoided it like the plague. It wasn't that she was a country girl, it was more that she was a strictly suburban – specifically incredibly wealthy, gated community suburban – southern belle, and anything possibly uncouth, cramped, and filled with mixing social classes tended to horrify her.

She was a character, but Natalie had taken a shine to here – that and, again, Emily was one of few females who attended the Thomas Jefferson school at the current time. Even the most tomboyish girl needed a little female companionship sometimes, and because of her Science/Math bent, Natalie spent too much time with mostly men already.

"In the flesh," Emily said dramatically, looking a bit disdainfully at the bench Natalie was on. "I am not sitting down," she added, both to Jess and Natalie.

"No one's makin' you, Princess," Jess retorted, rolling his eyes. He vaulted over the bench and sat down easily, pulling up the collar of his leather jacket to stymie the breeze. He cocked an eyebrow. "It's cold as hell out here."

"A colloquialism that is a fundamental oxymoron," Natalie remarked.

"We walked through the whole museum looking for you," Emily said, folding her arms. "I suppose I should have guessed you'd be outside in the cold like a lunatic."

"An aptly named lunatic," Natalie quipped.

"Meaning?"

"Her middle name is Winter, Your Worship," Jess said, snorting.

Emily sighed, neatly tucking her hands under her arms to warm them. Natalie looked between them, and raised an eyebrow.

"You two came together?" she asked.

It wasn't that Emily and Jess hated each other – but they were from two totally different worlds, and they didn't often mesh unless they were all at school. Despite being close, Emily and Natalie actually didn't hang out much outside of Thomas Jefferson; Emily was usually with her boyfriend, or at some socialite function in some city her father's private jet had taken her to. It was, in fact, an extremely well-kept secret that Emily was so frightfully smart in the field of Engineering – the talent that had earned her admission to Thomas Jefferson.

She could have easily paid her way into any private school in the area – in the country – but on a whim, she'd chosen a renowned public school that recognized her as more than just a rich little girl.

"I asked Her Royal – "

"Jess, seriously?" Emily growled.

"You're the one who's always listing your ancestry – "

"Well get it right, you uncultured swine; my great great grandfather was a Count, so the proper address is _M'Lady_."

"I asked M'lady here," Jess continued, without missing a beat, "if she knew what was up with you – perhaps it was a chick thing – "

"A chick thing?" Natalie quoted. "A _chick_ thing?!"

"—and M'lady said she thought it was a boy problem, and while we were arguing over whether or not to harass you about it, Dean came over and butted his idiot head in – "

"And voila, we arrive to harass," Emily said.

"Although," Jess said dryly, "it was mostly about escaping Forrester."

Natalie grinned lightly, and tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear. She delicately shut her history book, the paper she'd been working on poking out of it haphazardly, and looked at them proudly for a moment.

"How loved am I," she simpered poetically, "that such a union of plebe and patrician, proletariat and bourgeoisie, would mesh to hunt me down – "

"Nix the iambic pentameter before I make you discontent, Winter," Emily quipped wryly.

Natalie laughed appreciatively.

"Richard the Third," she noted, giving an admirable nod. "My name has so much pun potential – Gnat, Winter – I could be Tali myself – except, Jess, did you know Tali's real name is Athaliah? Because I've known her since I was eight and I always thought it was just Talia. It's a biblical name – Queen of Jordan – "

Emily thrust up her hands dramatically.

"I don't even know this person," she said dismissively. She lowered her hands, and looked around a bit, as if making sure no one was watching, before she gingerly sat down on a bench that catty-cornered Natalie, so that Natalie was surrounded on either side by a friend. "As self-absorbed as I can be, I didn't need Jess to ask me if I'd noticed something was up with you," she said seriously.

Natalie smiled a little. She'd been turned in on herself all week, that much was true, and while that wasn't necessarily unusual – Natalie was fiercely attentive in class and did her work diligently without misbehavior – her lack of contribution to discussion, and her introspective silence during social periods rather than acerbic wit was noticeable.

"Jess also noticed you got a B on that Chemistry test."

Natalie glared at him.

"It wasn't a B; it was a ninety-one," she snarled defensively.

"Yeah," Jess said, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. "A Natalie B," he clarified, shrugging.

Natalie smacked the cigarette out of his hand.

"Don't do that around me," she said. "If my mother smells it, she'll _kill_ me."

"Aren't you game to stick it to her right now?" Jess retorted, giving her a deadly look over the wasted cigarette.

"Not at the expense of my lungs, dumbass," Natalie retorted bluntly.

Emily arched a pristine eyebrow.

"It makes no sense for her to be self-destructive in an attempt to get attention," she said pointedly.

Jess shrugged, and ignored her.

"What's with your mom?" Emily asked. "Jenny's cool," she remarked – Emily's parents absolutely hated Jenny, on principle alone; before she'd gotten her car, Ms. Richards had come over to the brownstone to pick up Emily, and assumed Jenny was Natalie.

Natalie didn't think her mother looked that young, but Ms. Richard's horror had been slightly amusing.

Natalie shrugged a little – she'd only confided these things, parts of them, to Tali and Jess – her other fatherless friends. Instead of directly answering Emily, she answered Jess – she didn't mind if Emily knew.

"We had another huge fight on Saturday," she said.

Jess bit his fingernail.

"That why you bailed on science fair prep?" he asked – they'd had plans on Sunday.

Natalie looked down at her feet, rubbing her toes together, and nodded. She looked up, and squinted, clasping her hand over the closed book in her lap.

"I just holed up in my room, then I went to Tali's for a while and made her watch all the _Star Wars_."

"Appalling," Emily remarked simply.

"You got that right," Natalie said, turning baleful eyes towards Jess. "Guess which her favorite was?"

" _A New Hope_?" snorted Jess.

Deadpan, Natalie shook her head.

"Worse."

Jess narrowed his eyes.

"The – the _Phantom Menace_?"

"Yeah – the new, cool one," Natalie quoted. "She thought Jar Jar was adorable. Then she spent twenty minutes comparing the partition of Naboo to Israel and Palestine."

" _What_?" Jess yelped.

Emily leaned forward, grabbing Natalie's knee.

"Natalie, darling – my Ice Queen," she pleaded. "Fifty percent of your audience is a high class girl – "

" _Star Wars_ is high class," Natalie said.

"Oh, _please_."

"Em, literally everyone likes _Star Wars_. It isn't nerdy."

"HA."

Even Jess glared at Emily for that one, but Natalie sighed, and grinned at her affectionately.

"Yikes," she murmured, lifting her shoulders. "I must have been exuding some seriously hinky vibes if you two teamed up," she reiterated.

"Hinky isn't the right word," Jess said, wrinkling his nose at his own use of the cute term.

"Desolate," Emily supplied dramatically, and then shook her head. "You look tired, Nat," she said. "Not in an oh-you-need-make-up way, but you just look exhausted – and you're at school early, and late – not even studying, just hanging out in the library – "

"I've only been doing this for four days," Natalie said, with an exasperated laugh.

"Aren't you positively delighted that we'd intervene so quickly?" Emily asked, lifting her chin.

Natalie considered that a moment – she was, but she didn't think she needed an intervention. There wasn't anything wrong, she was just avoiding being home; things were so uncomfortable, and on Monday, when she'd decided to try to operate in the same way she had been after the Madonna concert, when the only point of contention was the box, it had been awkward and difficult and – and she and her mother had just started to snipe at each other anyway.

Bad words and sharp slaps were still too fresh.

Natalie closed her eyes tightly, her shoulders sagging.

"It's all this stuff with my dad," she muttered, opening her eyes and focusing on the statue. She furrowed her brow. "When Mom and I have differences of opinion on politics, or books, or movies – she'll always say we don't see eye to eye, but she'll joke that when I get taller, I'll see her way." Natalie remarked. "But this stuff…I don't think we're ever going to see eye to eye."

Jess grunted supportively.

Emily, tilted her head, her face expressive suddenly.

"Your _dad_?" she exclaimed. "When did Mr. Jenny – I need to be read in to the situation," she said rapidly, clicking her tongue. She put her hand out. "And what's this, the young hoodlum is privy to your dramas? When I am a self-described and damn near professional drama queen?"

Natalie crinkled her nose in a bit of amusement, and tilted her head, batting her lashes a moment. Then she shrugged, and licked her lips.

"It's all happened – belligerently quickly," she explained, savoring her choice of words. "I addressed the situation with The Fatherless Triumvirate – myself, Jess, and Tali David."

"Right – me not in association with this Tali person is to the severe detriment of my gossip network – but Jess has a father, he's just in jail," Emily said.

"That was callous," Natalie said dryly.

"S'not just about knowing you've got one," Jess said, with uncharacteristic civility on the subject, "s'about the shit they've done, or not done, or where they were."

Natalie nodded.

"Tali's father was an adulterer and did shady political stuff to justify Israeli military operations," she said. "He lives in Paris – Jess's dad is in jail, was in and out for his life – mine was just … shrouded in mystery," Natalie said. "The first person you go to about stuff like this isn't necessarily someone who has a normal nuclear family."

Her words to Emily weren't apologetic, but they were gentle. She would talk about this when she wanted, with who she wanted, and oftentimes, Emily's interest in things was more about knowing and feeling in the loop than it was genuine concern.

"Be advised that my family is _not_ normal, though nuclear could be an apt descriptor," Emily said artfully. "I have a mother who changes her name – legally changes her name! – every five years to keep it fresh, and my father is an investment banker with a Civil War fetish that manifests in him pretending to fight battles on the weekends – rich people are never normal," she recited. "But," she allowed, generously, "I get it – fill me in."

Natalie chewed the inside of her lip. She pressed her hand more heavily on the book in her lap, and considered them, Jess and Emily, for a moment.

"The topic is exhausting," she said, shaking her head a little. "Em, so – bottom line, small world, all that jazz – my dad works in the same building as my mom, and they didn't know about it until recently, when we all accidentally came face to face," she said, "but before that, I'd found a bunch of stuff he sent to me when I was a baby, and over the years, that Mom never gave me – and so I went to see him behind her back, and we had a huge fight about that, and then she went to see him, because he told me his wife and his other daughter had died, and she came back and told me their whole history, basically, and then tried to tell me I still couldn't see him so we had _another_ huge fight," Natalie said rapidly, taking a deep breath, "and so I told her she was a bitch, and she slapped me."

Jess raised his eyebrows a little. Emily's mouth fell open slightly.

"You called your mother a bitch?" Emily asked, in a hushed voice.

Natalie squeezed her eyes shut.

"I feel so bad about it," she whispered, biting her lip as she opened her eyes. "She looked so hurt by it – "

"She slapped you?" Jess asked. "You hit her back?"

"Jess, Jesus Christ, I did not grow up the same way you did," Natalie snapped. "I didn't _hit her back_ – she didn't hit me that hard, and I could tell she was upset, but I said something nasty anyway."

"What did you say?" Emily asked.

Natalie just shook her head.

"Never mind," she said, swallowing, and falling into silence.

Emily leaned forward, pushing some dark hair out of her face.

"You two haven't made up yet?" she asked, lips puckering sympathetically – Emily knew how close Natalie was to Jenny; everyone knew. Due to Natalie's lack of rule-breaking and usually docile and intelligent disposition, the two were more like sisters than mother and daughter – the age proximity probably had something to do with that.

" _No_ ," Natalie said hoarsely, tapping her book. "I just – can't – I feel so bad for what I said, but I feel like if I apologize first, or I try to swallow my pride first, she'll think I'm conceding the point and I'm not. I don't want to be at odds with my mother, but I'm just not going to live basically next door to my father and ignore his existence. I don't care how messed up he is."

Jess scuffed his foot on the bench, and put his hands in his pockets for warmth.

"Why's she sayin no now?" he asked.

"Because his wife and daughter died last year," Natalie said, "and she doesn't want him to just use me as a replacement or something – it doesn't make any sense," she growled. "You can't replace a three-year-old with a fourteen-year-old."

It was just utterly nonsensical to her. She knew she couldn't really understand the emotion that would have come with that tragedy, but she had lost two people in her life – one a very dear friend, an aunt figure, and she knew that having people around you who loved you helped _so_ much. She didn't even think she minded if Gibbs just used her … even if he did, it wouldn't be forever, right? He'd learn to cope.

"It's all been _so_ horrible," Natalie burst out, her voice shaking. "My birthday's coming up, and Mom and I are fighting. I don't know how to fix that – I want to talk to him anyway, and just tell her to go to hell, but I also can't choose a man I barely know over the woman who's worked her fingers to the bone to give me a better life, a good life – but I get angry all over again because she _put_ me in this position," Natalie broke off. "I don't have any reason to turn my back on my Dad, you know?"

She bit down on her lip, and groaned, frustrated. She sighed, looking between Emily and Jess again.

"My mom, her motives for all this…they weren't entirely noble," she confessed, "and I think that's breaking my heart more than anything – and I feel like unless they can find some sort of closure, or deal with their issues, it's always going to be this unresolved issue between me and Mom, and he's just going to be this specter in my life that drives us apart just because I want to know him."

Jess shrugged a little, and then smiled wryly.

"Makes me glad my old man's a piece of shit," he remarked, slightly callous.

Natalie managed a laugh.

"Yeah," she said hoarsely. "That – would make it easier, wouldn't it?"

She wrinkled her nose slightly. It would be a lot less complicated if she'd found out her father was in jail, or a deserter, or some kind of unsavory fiend who she had no interest in and didn't need around. But he wasn't, and it genuinely didn't seem like he'd ever been; he was just a guy. He was just a guy who'd been as young as her mother when Natalie was born, and had moved on differently since.

Natalie opened the book she had in her lap, looking down at the paper, and licked her lips.

"I think part of my mother resents that he moved on. He got married. He had another kid," Natalie said quietly, "and she didn't."

Natalie didn't say anything else out loud, and she hated to think that about her mother, but it had to be at least a little true. She understood now, almost painfully clearly, why Jenny had never committed to Brent, even though he was such a good man – why she'd never committed to anyone; sure, it was a thoughtful and responsible decision to protect Natalie from the instability of various father figures and a string of strange men, but it also, no doubt, had something to do with the fact that Jenny – somehow, Natalie could just sense it – Jenny had expected Gibbs to pine.

She had insisted to Natalie that her motivation was always Natalie's well-being; that Gibbs was too erratic, that he'd dropped the ball, hadn't been consistent enough – and Natalie couldn't exactly say she'd had a bad life, but she wondered why, every time she went over the whole conversation-fight they'd had, it sounded like Jenny had expected Gibbs to make one hundred percent of the effort and sacrifice…and had made none of her own.

Not, at least, when it came to him. When it came to Natalie – well, Natalie felt certain that her mother had always put her first. It had always felt like it, and so even now, she tried to understand that Jenny thought she was doing what was right.

Natalie just didn't agree.

"What is that?" Jess asked, jerking his chin at the paper in her lap.

Natalie looked down at it. She chewed on her lip, and then folded it – it wasn't finished – and she hesitated a moment before she answered.

"Nothing," she said, taking a deep breath.

She decided the less they knew, the better – plausible deniability. She swallowed hard, pushing down all of the emotion she had at the surface, and gave them each a calculating look. She waited, both of them staring at her, and then she leaned forward, her shoulders a little stiff – she felt nervous, but this idea had kept recurring since Sunday, and she couldn't shake it –

"Can I borrow some money?" she asked Emily abruptly.

Emily looked surprised. Then, she shrugged.

"How much?" she asked brightly.

Jess shook his head, scoffing under his breath – all that wealth; must be nice.

Natalie tilted her head back and forth.

"Let's say – fifty bucks," she said slowly.

Emily looked at her intently a moment, and then nodded.

"You want to read us in?" Jess asked sarcastically, his brows going up with barely hidden curiosity.

"No," Natalie said calmly, turning to him, "but I need your skills with the pen."

"Forgery?" Jess asked.

"I need to have, um – I need the Flu, or something. A doctor's appointment," she said steadily. "On Friday."

Jess glared at her a moment, and then shrugged.

"I got to have a sample of your Mom's handwriting," he said gruffly.

Natalie nodded – she could scrounge that up.

"I'm going to give you a hundred," Emily said warily. "I don't – know what this is about, but you need extra cash in case of an emergency."

"Thanks, Em," Natalie said dryly. She hesitated. "I have to do – this," she said. "I think…I think the only way to force anyone's hand is to create Hayley Mills level hijinks."

" _The Parent Trap_ girl?" Emily asked. "Nat, take it easy – I don't think you should jump into getting your parents together, from the sound of it – "

Natalie shook her head, firmly interrupting with a contradictory look.

"Not get them together," she amended. "Make them – _work_ together. "

"What a plan, Pollyanna," Jess said, a little mockingly.

Natalie looked at him placidly.

"I know it sounds silly," she said quietly, "but my mom said something once," she paused, hesitating, "she's said before that once, it used to be, they always had each other's backs," she said, brow furrowing – had Jenny said it recently, or was it something Natalie inherently remembered – just them, Jenny and Gibbs, against the world – in a time long lost over a rainbow. "I think they need to remember that," Natalie said softly. "I think I need to know…more about what happened."

Jess looked skeptical; Emily looked a bit confused, but definitely into the drama and intrigue – and Natalie thought about the letter in her book, and the small little journal she had in her bag, full of things she'd written over the years – little diary entries that her mother didn't know about; that Natalie had never told her about, for fear of hurting her feelings or making her sad.

"Clarify one thing for me – are you skipping school on Friday?" Emily asked, shocked – not at the infraction, at the thought of Natalie, Natalie Winter Gibbs, committing the infraction.

Natalie looked panicked.

"Oh – I don't _know_ ," she said, frustrated.

She didn't. It depended on how things aligned, if anything fell together – it truly spoke to how deeply she loved school, and valued her mother's efforts to make sure she got to this school in particular, that at this pivotal moment, the idea of missing class might stop her from acting rashly, more than the idea of disrespecting her mother.

Jess gave a shrug, and touched his cap in a mock salute.

"Let me know if you need my services, Gnat," he said – the way he said it always implied bugs in the nickname, not just a mere shortening of her name.

He zipped up his jacket, swept his backpack off the floor, and gave Natalie a wink.

"If you bail on _Boys Don't Cry_ this weekend, don't tell Tali David," he said wryly, smirking. "In fact, do whatever you're planning, so I suddenly end up seeing the movie with only her," he drawled.

He paused a moment, and then leaned closer, a sudden sharp, knowing look in his eyes.

"Amtrak is expensive, but if Her Highness-ness here is footing the bill, spring for it," he said astute. "Greyhound buses are a bitch."

Jess winked, and turned on his heel, dragging his feet off towards the Smithsonian's metro rail station, and Emily pursed her lips.

"Where does _he_ think you're going?" she asked loftily.

Natalie tilted her head a little, her lips turning up – she'd almost forgotten that one of the escapades that landed Jess in some juvenile detention hot water had involved him hitchhiking – as far as Chicago, before he was busted and brought back to his unstable mother – to try and live with his father. That, of course, was before some judge saw the intelligence in Jess and placed him at Thomas Jefferson, and before a more calloused Jess realized his father was worthless.

As it were, Natalie didn't answer Emily; but she put up her things, and stood, buttoning her coat. She put her hands in her pockets, and looked for a long time at the monument, trying to decided what to do – she still didn't feel like going home, and she was afraid she'd lose her nerve before she worked on building it up.

"Nat?" Emily ventured. "Want to come hang out with me and Richard?"

Richard was the Georgetown boyfriend.

"You won't be a third wheel," Emily said cheerily.

Natalie smiled at her, relieved at the offer. Silently, she nodded, removing one hand from her pocket to gather her things, turning her back to the Space Museum sculpture. As she fell in step next to Emily, and the other girl began to chat about some aspect of one of their professor's alleged scandalous personal life, Natalie started crafting words in her head – words that would need to go on that folded piece of paper currently compressed in the pages of her history book.

* * *

Jenny wasn't sure if it was a positive or a negative that she was having her busiest week at NCIS in a while. On one hand, it distracted her from the fact that the atmosphere in her home had begun to resemble the general emotional consistency of the Cold War. On the other, more stress was the last thing she needed right now when she wanted to be focusing on navigating her personal life.

It didn't really help that an incredibly significant part of her tangled personal life worked two floors above her.

It also didn't help that her Cyber Unit was an absolute madhouse right now.

Kirk and Charleston were fighting about something, loudly, and their noise was stressing McGee out, who had just come back from shadowing Ducky in autopsy and was not handling that particular eye-opener very well.

Jenny had sent the intern into her office to recover, and when she'd sat down and turned back to her computer to address the money trail she was tracking for a case, two things happened at once that made her jump out of her skin: Abby darted into the room, looking worried, and a cold, wet nose pressed into her knee under the desk.

Jenny shrieked, and shot back in her chair, and when the large German Shepherd trotted out from under the desk, tail wagging, Abby cooed:

"There you are, Bugsy!"

Bugsy, tail still wagging, pranced over to Abby, and Jenny put her hand to her heart, calming down quickly – she was used to Bugsy's presence, but she wasn't necessarily used to the eerie way the dog seemed to seek her out when the major crimes response team was out in the field.

"I thought I lost her," Abby admitted guiltily. "I forgot she was in the lab and she ran out when she heard the ballistics testing – poor baby," Abby cooed, crouching to rub her snout. "She hates loud noises."

Jenny, her heartbeat returning to normal, furrowed her brow.

"I thought she was a retired Marine – wasn't she in Kuwait with Jethro?" she asked. Abby looked up, eyebrows raised. "Gibbs," Jenny corrected quickly, flushing. Abby grinned a little knowingly, and then shook her head.

"Nope, she was a reject," Abby corrected. "Gibbs said he adopted her because she didn't pass the tests to be a Marine dog." Giving the dog a sweet kiss on the nose, Abby straightened up, still softly massaging the top of Bugsy's head. She lowered her voice. "She was in a bad car accident," Abby confided. "That's why the loud noises bother her."

Jenny looked at the dog for a moment, her throat tight – she highly doubted there had been more than one bad car accident in Bugsy's life, or Gibbs' – which meant the dog must have survived the accident that killed Shannon and Kelly. She looked up at Abby, silently wondering if the scientist knew the details.

"Did she get hurt in the accident?" Jenny asked neutrally.

Abby sighed.

"Fourteen stitches on her abdomen and a broken leg," she said. Abby clicked her tongue at Bugsy, and then blew her a kiss. "She was the only survivor."

Jenny looked at the dog, sitting there with her tongue lolling out. She looked delighted to be around so many people, and exceedingly pleased and content with her life. Jenny held her hand out lightly, and Bugsy darted towards her, nuzzling into her legs. Jenny smiled, and leaned forward, resting her cheek on Bugsy's head.

"Natalie wanted a dog so badly when she was," Jenny paused, thinking, "Twelve," she remembered. "She made lists of names, did all kinds of research, and decided the best kind of dog to have was a shelter dog."

"Aww, and you wouldn't give in?" Abby asked, pouting good-naturedly.

Jenny sighed.

"Well, we were moving across the country, and then I was in grad school," she said, shaking her head. "I trusted Natalie to care for a dog, but we couldn't have given it enough attention."

She felt a little bitter about saying she trusted Natalie. This week, her trust had been tested – Natalie walked in the door an hour after Jenny, despite school ending at around three. She holed herself up in her room, or studied quietly near the fireplace – Jenny knew, deep down, that Natalie was too smart and focused to do anything stupid to jeopardize her future, but she missed her daughter. She missed their easy relationship.

Jenny had always allowed Natalie freedom, since she'd started high school – it was absolutely necessary that she be able to ride the bus alone, take the metro alone – and at fourteen, with her penchant for responsibility, it had never been an issue. Natalie always told Jenny where she was, so Jenny wasn't particularly panicky about her being at the movies, or hanging out at a friend's house – but this week, since their fight on Saturday, she'd been more demanding, and Natalie had taken affront to it.

"I take it Franks' team is in the field?"

"No."

Franks himself answered, storming into the room.

"Don't drag your feet, Probie, she's not gonna bite you," he growled, gnashing his teeth. He gave Jenny a look. "You ever bit 'im, Shepard?" he asked, gesturing.

He pointed at Gibbs, who stood in the doorway silently, his expression unreadable. Jenny swallowed hard, only meeting his eyes for a moment – if things were awkward and tense were home, that feeling was magnified by a hundred at the office.

She shook her head.

"No," she said, turning back to Franks with a glare.

Franks shrugged, and smirked.

"She has," Gibbs said, unexpectedly.

Abby whipped around, and Franks looked amused. Jenny turned a little slowly, taken aback. He just nodded slowly, and didn't say anything else – she stared at him; she genuinely didn't remember biting him, but then, they had done a lot of things together when they were young.

"Oy," Franks barked at Kirk and Charleston, "you two – shut the fuck up, isn't one of you supposed to be chasing down a lead for McLane?"

The two constantly arguing agents grumbled; Charleston blustering and scowling at Franks, and turning back to his cubicle, and Kirk stammering and then slinking into his own desk area. Jenny leaned back at the computer area right outside of her office.

"What do you need, Mike?" she asked tiredly.

He held out his hand, and Gibbs came forward, holding out a file. Franks snatched it, and handed it to Jenny.

"Translate this," he ordered.

She took it, opened it, and looked at it for a moment.

"Why do you need me?" she asked, murmuring softly to herself for a moment. She shook her head. "You speak Russian, Mike."

"Not that well," he retorted gruffly. "Only got 'bout half of that."

Jenny read over it again.

"Well, it's basically chatter about Chechen arms," she said blankly. "There's no valuable information, except that the arms are somehow being used to cleanse money that's funneled around Middle Eastern terrorist groups, but we know that," she said.

"We do know that," Franks agreed. "You found anything on these traces we've been giving you?" he asked.

"No," Jenny said shortly. "I've been coaching McGee on some security procedures – he walked out of the building with a goddamn classified document stuck to his shoe," she griped, shooting a glare at her office.

"I'm really sorry, Mrs. – "

"Oh for the last time, Timothy, I'm not married!" Jenny shouted at him.

She waited a moment, and then smiled pleasantly, and turned back to Franks.

"I'm working on it, but I also plan to enlist Tim's help to write a program to help," she explained, sitting forward. "He's smart, and I think he can help me to work out the kinks – and I want him to get experience in quickly producing something like this to help code for the investigations when we don't want to spend weeks on end up all night doing this by hand – but right now, programs are difficult to write, so I'm doing some by hand," she said, focusing on Franks, with occasional glances at Abby and Gibbs. "What I've got so far is not much – this money goes all over the place, and I know we're trying to connect arms – the only thing that came up was a name that seems familiar to me – "

"Qassam?" Franks supplied.

Jenny frowned.

"Yeah," she said, feeling a little sick over it. "Qassam."

"You remember that because it was the name of Ari Haswari's handler," Franks said coolly.

Jenny sat forward.

"Hamas is in the mix?"

"Look," Franks said sharply, "Al-Qaeda has something brewing, I can feel it, and no one's listenin' to me," he said. "I think the money people in Hamas are involved in it, but I don't think it's about weaponry, I think it's about somethin' else – intelligence, I don't know," he growled. "I figured if I got you on it, and you took it personal, I could get you to focus more on this, for me – "

"Franks, I focus on my work," Jenny said sharply, "I do my job."

"Well, the higher ups told me to drop it, leave it to the CIA and anti-terrorism," he barked, interrupting her. "I want you on it. I want you on the chatter, and the money – write your program, find out the connection to Qassam if you can," he ordered.

Jenny grit her teeth – Frank's recent obsession with what Al-Qaeda was doing had turned him into a dog with a bone; he'd gotten it in his head, recently – since the embassy bombings in Africa, since the Khobar Towers, that he was missing something, that they were all building up to something bigger – his constant push to get more information was rejected, and he went off the deep end at any possible link to Al-Qaeda.

"Mike," Jenny said, "I'll devote what time I have to it based on case triage," she said diplomatically.

The craggy old agent scowled at her, but with grudging respect. She smiled a little, and then looked around.

"Anything else," she asked, and then, boldly, "or did you just bring Gibbs down here in the hopes of some Jerry Springer level drama?" she added dryly.

"If one of you threw somethin' at the other one, that might make my day," Franks answered, deadpan.

Jenny arched an eyebrow at him, and Abby clicked her tongue.

"Jenny's the only one who can throw something, though," she remarked brightly.

"How'd you figure?" Franks griped.

"Well, if a woman throws something at a man, it's a hilarious event that he probably deserved – if a man does it to a woman, it's a sinister act of violence," she said slyly.

Franks pointed between them.

"And you're the ones who're always bitchin' about equality," he seethed.

Jenny shrugged at him.

"It's good to be a girl," Abby said, turning on her heel. "If you'll excuse me, I have fibers to analyze – send Bugsy on down if you're out again," she said to Gibbs, pausing to give him a swift kiss on the cheek.

If Jenny hadn't been accustomed to seeing Abby dish out physical affection like it was mere oxygen, she might have felt a little – jealous, or even hostile, over the act – but she was used to it, so she just ignored it, and then turned to Kirk and Charleston, who hadn't really stopped fighting when Franks yelled at them – they'd just lowered their argument to a hissing hush.

"Why don't you two take a break, and do some friendly hazing of McGee?"

"Mallard already hazed him," griped Charleston immediately.

"No, Tim was shadowing him," Jenny said lightly.

Kirk stood up, his eyes wide.

"I'm going for lunch," he said, "while I let this buffoon sit here and try to figure out what I just explained to him about Boolean code."

"Right," Jenny agreed seriously – she herself was absolutely terrible at Boolean coding; she left it to Kirk, or, more frequently, McGee, who was a proven whiz at it even at his tender age.

Kirk got up, giving Franks and Gibbs a wide berth, and Charleston, gnashing his teeth, went back to his computer.

"Where is that twitchy kid?" Franks asked.

Jenny jerked her thumb at her office.

"He threw up in autopsy, so he's in there drinking some tea," she said.

"You have tea in your office?" Franks asked derisively.

"I have coffee in my office," she countered. "Ducky has tea – which I'm sure he'd offer you, though I think we previously established you're not a tea drinkin' kind of guy," she retorted, thinking about his visit to her in Los Angeles.

Franks turned up his nose a little, then grinned.

"Tea's bad for the image," he said gruffly.

Jenny smirked a little, and Franks gestured at Gibbs.

"He needed to see what goes on down here," he grunted. "Pride's more comfortable with this stuff; he and McLane were always down here with Charleston and the Captain," Franks threw out Kirk's nickname mockingly, "while you were doing your time at Norfolk and Pax."

Jenny nodded neutrally, and then carefully turned her eyes on Gibbs.

"Providing Y-two-K doesn't actually destroy the planet, IT operations will end up being the backbone of most of society – including criminal investigations," she said, a little stiffly.

"Y-two-K?" Gibbs grunted.

"Mumbo-jumbo doomsday theory," Franks said loudly, scowling. "You mark my words, the both of you – Osama Bin Laden is gonna be the Y-two-K this country's all fired up over, and ain't no one listenin' to me about it," he griped.

He reached inside his jacket for a cigarette, and then flipped a lighter out of his pocket, playing with it. Jenny gave him a narrow, sharp look, and he held up his hands.

"I ain't gonna light it in here," he muttered at her. He glanced at Gibbs. "She hates 'em," he added, a comment that seemed redundant, considering the obvious look of distaste on her face.

"Cigarettes give you cancer," Gibbs said, his face blank.

"You're givin' me cancer, Probie, Jesus effin' Christ," Franks blustered darkly. "Haulin' that goddamn puppy all over the place, stickin' little dolphins on your desk – I'm gonna have a stroke if I have to look at Free Willy for another week!"

"Free Willy's a whale," Jenny said seriously. "You're thinking of Flipper."

"I'm thinkin' of firing you," Franks retorted moodily.

Jenny flashed him a grin.

"Take it up with Hetty," she said – Hetty had been at the head of Jenny's career since she'd been taken on full time back in California; Hetty was the head of all special projects that cropped up, and ultimately final decisions went back to her.

"You do all this computer stuff?" Gibbs asked suddenly, taking her by surprise. His voice wasn't overtly curious, but there was a bit more light in his eyes – not so expressionless; he looked at least somewhat engaged.

Jenny inclined her head moderately.

"Information and systems specialist," she said. "Part of the first crop NCIS took on, in the early nineties."

"You run," Gibbs said, swirling his finger around, "all this? At headquarters? That's why you've been at the other field offices?" he went on.

Franks snorted.

"What the hell'd you do, Probie, look in her file?" he asked. He shook his head. He put his cigarette in his mouth, and gave Jenny a pointed look. "Get on that Qassam shit, Shepard," he said pointedly. "I'm tellin' you, I'm tellin' them – Khobar, it's just the beginning," he growled. On his way out, he slapped Gibbs' on the back roughly. "No funny business down here," he snorted.

Franks was gone in the next moment, and that left Jenny and Gibbs alone – alone except for Tim, he was still practically shut up in Jenny's office, and Charleston, who heard nothing once he put his headphones on and re-focused on his work. Gibbs stared at him for a moment, critically, before he took a step back, and fixed his eyes back on Jenny.

He arched his eyebrows, as if to remind her he'd asked a question. She nodded carefully.

"Yes, for all intents and purposes," she said. "I'm in charge." She noticed the look on his face, and swallowed. "In this – office, the area," she added, rambling a little. "Henrietta Lange, she's head of the directorate – there's some people under her, a chain of command…" she trailed off. "It's a good job," she finished lamely.

Gibbs didn't say anything. Then, abruptly, he said:

"Computers can't interrogate suspects."

Jenny sat forward a little. She gave him a half smile.

"No," she agreed. "If anything, my work in this field has taught me humans will never be obsolete."

"Comforting," Gibbs remarked dryly.

He fell silent, and Bugsy lazily trotted over to him, her tongue lolling out. Jenny noticed she had dog tags tangled around her collar, and she pursed her lips, trying to think of something to say – since her confrontation with him on Saturday, Jenny had kept things extremely hollow and superficial with Gibbs – and besides, they were at work.

He slid his hands into his pockets.

"You and Franks go back," he said. It wasn't so much a question as an observation – which clued Jenny in to the fact that Franks wasn't exactly telling tales about her. She nodded, taking a deep breath.

"Yeah, ah – yeah. Yeah," she said lamely.

"Got somethin' to do with his al-Qaeda hang-up."

"To be perfectly honest, I'm not entirely sure he's wrong about his al-Qaeda hang-up," Jenny said a little edgily. She paused a moment, and then inclined her head. "Ari Haswari, the man he mentioned?"

Gibbs nodded. Jenny took a deep breath.

"He was a U.S. Naval officer, an Israeli who joined as a path to citizenship – he claimed," she said, giving the clipped version of the story. "He was working with another sailor, who was involved with the Mexican cartels, to launder money and funnel it to Hamas – sell secrets, too. When NCIS caught on to him, he tried to frame a Naval Officer and NCIS liaison named Kate Todd," Jenny paused. She smiled a little, her mouth tight. "Kate…was a very – she was my best friend," she said, nodding for emphasis. "She told me about the NCIS internship. She basically opened the door to my career."

Gibbs shifted his weight, an intent look on his face.

"What happened to Todd?" he asked – a sharp investigator, he knew from the story something was wrong – something about Jenny's face.

"She was murdered, by Haswari," Jenny confided quietly. "A year later he was caught – his little sister turned him in to American authorities," she said. "They resettled in the U.S. and _her_ little sister," Jenny hesitated, "is one of Natalie's best friends," she trailed off a moment. "It's strange, really," she said softly, half to herself.

Jenny looked at Bugsy for a moment, and then looked up at Gibbs, her eyes guarded.

"Ziva David, and Tali David," she said. She sniffed a little. "They're the ones who dropped Natalie off at your house for the guerilla maneuver."

The corner of Gibbs' mouth turned up a little, a small ghost of a smirk. He lifted his shoulders.

"Didn't mind," he said.

"Well," she said quietly, almost under her breath. "I did." She paused, and then shook her head, frustrated. "I told her I wanted to speak with you first."

Gibbs crossed his arms.

"Yeah?" he asked, his face darkening a little. "What were you gonna say?"

Jenny smiled tiredly.

"I don't know, Jethro. I didn't know about," she broke off. She shook her head a little. She lifted her shoulders. She didn't know what to say, and she wasn't callous enough to bring up Shannon and Kelly in the workplace, though she was sure he thought about them all the time.

She sighed quietly, and leaned back.

"What a mess," she said bluntly.

"Your mess, Jen," he said, too quickly.

She cut her eyes at him sharply, and the phone at her station began to blink. Her eyes still on Gibbs, she reached for it.

"Shepard," she said neutrally.

She chewed on her lip a moment, then straightened, and turned, angling herself away from Gibbs.

"It's a school night," she said.

Gibbs looked down at Bugsy. He stared at her for a minute, and then crouched down, rubbing the dog affectionately. It must be Natalie on the phone, and he didn't really plan on leaving until he made Jenny a little more uncomfortable – she'd said something, at his house, about him not being a good presence for Natalie while he was pining for Kelly, or wishing she was Kelly – but Jenny had it all wrong; it was so much more complex than that.

It might be that – losing Kelly had made him more determined about Natalie, had made him really get his shit together, really think about what had happened to make him give in and play along with Jenny's rules – but it wasn't because of what _she_ thought. It was – something different – and he couldn't explain it to her, because she didn't have another kid; she didn't understand that there wasn't an either or; there was no such thing as a favorite, or a replacement.

It would never be like that.

"Natalie, I've barely seen you all week!" Jenny snapped, exasperated. "I said no – I said it's a school night – can I speak with Emily's mother?" she said.

Gibbs watched for a moment, and then looked down and raised his eyebrows at Bugsy, eavesdropping.

"Well, that's very convenient," Jenny said snippily. "I know I – that's because you don't deserve my trust right now."

Jenny paused for a long time, rubbing her head – on the other end of the line, Natalie claimed Emily's mother wasn't around – which wasn't too surprising, Emily's parents were perennially absent from her life - and asked to spend the night in Arlington.

"It's a school night," Jenny repeated.

"Mom," Natalie said, eerily calmly, "nixing a sleepover because I might stay up late directly contradicts the Madonna concert we went to on a school night."

Jenny grit her teeth. She rolled her eyes.

"Natalie Winter, you can't avoid me for the rest of your life," she said, lowering her voice tensely. "You can stay at Emily's – get this as much out of your system as you can, come home directly after school tomorrow, and we – " she broke off, pausing. " _I'll_ ," she corrected, "talk with you again." Again, she was quiet. "I'm _not_ going to circumlocute for an hour!" she snapped, nettled.

A moment later, she sighed a frustrated goodbye, and hung up the phone, staring at it for a moment. She leaned forward, rubbing her temples in a stiff massage, and shook her head a little. She felt like there were daggers in her skull – she was so miserable, being at odds with Natalie, and here she sat, Gibbs' eyes boring into her.

She took a deep breath, and lifted her head.

"How is she?" Gibbs asked, neutral. "Natalie."

Jenny looked at him tightly, her face flushed. She didn't know what to say – it wasn't Gibbs' fault that she and Natalie were fighting.

"She's," Jenny said, and then sighed harshly. "Fourteen," she finished, as if that explained everything.

Gibbs stood up, contemplating saying something else. He looked over at the other guy in the room, the one with the headphones – for a moment; he couldn't believe Natalie was fourteen – _fourteen_. At fourteen, he'd been planning to ask Jenny to go steady once they got to high school. At fourteen-and-a-half, Jenny had said yes. A year later, she'd been pregnant.

Gibbs turned back, his hand on Bugsy's head, but before he could say anything, the intern came out of Jenny's office, his face pale. He held up his hand.

"Mrs. – "

"MCGEE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD."

"Miss Sh – "

"TIM!"

"Jenny," McGee said weakly, finally getting it right. "I have an idea for the Boolean code we were working on."

In an instant, Jenny was businesslike, professional, and she glanced at Gibbs for a long moment before clearing her throat, and nodded.

"Get over here," she said, softening her voice a little. She stood. "Sit down," she told him, giving him her seat. She turned to Gibbs, and nodded her head. "Agent Gibbs," she said, an apologetic, half guilty little dismissal – her guard had been down for a moment, and it had to end.

She'd felt – talking to him about Kate, on the verge of talking to him about Natalie – like she'd used to with him; she remembered how it used to be – and now was not the time or the place, but she did resolve, quietly, in the back of her mind, to go home tonight and – in Natalie's absence – try to come up with the best solution from them all.

She leaned down next to McGee, her close proximity making him blush, and she didn't look back over her shoulder as Gibbs left the room, Bugsy at his heels, because she was quite sure if she'd looked into his eyes any longer, there were a thousand different reasons she'd lose focus for the rest of the day.

* * *

Gibbs sat on the edge of his living room couch, halfheartedly keeping an eye on the steak he was slow-cooking in the fireplace. Bugsy sat sharply in front of the hearth, her canine eyes following the piece of meat greedily, but despite her animal nature, Gibbs trusted that she'd never make a move unless he explicitly allowed it – and he always made a smaller, particularly fatty piece to mix into her dog food, anyway.

He was usually sharply attentive to his beef, making sure it was never more than medium rare, but tonight he was distracted—distracted by something he'd found on his doorstep, next to the paper, when he got home from work.

Bugsy had found it, actually – Bugsy had sniffed it out on top of the three papers already languishing by Gibbs' doorstep, the ones he rarely paid attention to. She'd put the newest paper, as well as the new object, in her mouth, and then trotted around, proceeding to play a game of catch-me-if-you-can before Gibbs finally got her to drop it.

He'd looked at the cover for a long time – a juvenile thing, faded pink, with tears and stains on it, with N-W-G etched in the top corner in sparkly green pen. He had opened it, read a few lines on the first page, and then closed it until he had dinner going.

He sat reading it extremely slowly now – he'd gotten past the first two pages, before something fell out of the back, a note with neat, clearly more grown-up writing on it – composed in dark blue ink pen.

 _Thought you'd be interested. I'll see you soon. –Bug._

It wasn't much of an explanation, but Gibbs was getting the gist as he read – the first page had a date; not a specific one, just the month of April, nineteen-ninety two. Childish writing, a few childish drawings, some errant thoughts.

He turned every page delicately and slowly, unsure what to think. He'd been thinking about calling Jenny for a while now, because something about this was giving him an odd gut feeling – the contents of the little book meant something to him, but he wasn't sure how it could have ended up on his doorstep between his leaving for work and getting him. Sure, Natalie had made her way here on her own before, but that wasn't on a school day.

He put his hand at his jaw, and looked at Bugsy. The dog licked her chops.

"Quit it," he ordered. She turned her head, and thumped her tail. "What d'you think about this," he asked, shaking the book a little. "Hmm?" he grunted.

Bugsy whined a little, and Gibbs looked back down, turning another page.

"Think I should call Jen?" he asked gruffly.

Bugsy just whined again. Gibbs smiled a little. Bugsy liked Jenny – Bugsy also liked Abby, and had taken right to Natalie, and generally tended to warm up to women just fine – but it seemed an annoying twist of fate that Bugsy liked Jenny. He wasn't surprised that she liked Natalie – that was comforting – but the other…

Gibbs shook his head.

He reached out and scratched Bugsy's neck, listening to the dog tags around her neck jingle. It was the single dog tag he'd given Kelly to take with her back to the States when they were being evacuated. He'd hung it around Bugsy in Paris before they took her to the vet, and it had stayed there ever since – just, it seemed, like the dog tag he'd sent to Natalie had stayed perpetually around her neck.

At the very least, Jenny had allowed that.

Gibbs closed the book a moment, and set his jaw, closing his eyes a moment – he'd been trying to decide what the best course of action was all week. He tended to think he'd done the noble, martyr thing and waited on Jen, listened to Jen, not gone behind her back – regardless of Natalie's actions – but he didn't intend to live in this kind of proximity with his daughter and not see her. Part of him didn't know how to blow off Jenny, because something in him as a parent wouldn't let him advocate Natalie disobeying or disrespecting her mother, but part of him fiercely believed that no matter how rough it was at first, he could, somehow, make her believe that she had been wrong all those years ago, and she was wrong now.

The fire crackled, and Gibbs wished his house wasn't so quiet.

He wished he didn't live here alone, in the house that Shannon had decided was going to be their perfect home, once he retired, and they settled permanently. He wished the walls in an empty bedroom upstairs weren't painted green, and tentatively marked 'baby's room.'

It might not be so hard to live here if it hadn't been a symbol of everything he didn't have anymore.

He almost couldn't stand living in the place; but he couldn't stand the idea of selling it, either; it was his and Shannon's; it was supposed to be theirs forever.

He turned, setting aside the book Natalie had left, and reached for the fireplace poker – Bugsy got up on all fours excitedly and then, to his surprise, whipped around and howled at the front door, instead of keeping her eyes peeled on the steak.

Gibbs looked over, and the door flew open.

He pulled back in genuine surprise, holding the fire poker up awkwardly. In the time it took Jenny to slam the door, Bugsy was already scrambling towards her, leaping up on her. To her credit, she didn't even stumble back a little, she rested her hand on the dog's head a moment, and then pushed her down roughly, sticking her knee out a little.

"Hey," Gibbs growled, pointing the fire poker at her mildly, "don't hurt my dog."

She ignored him, approaching him with a pale, tight look on her face.

"Is Natalie here?" she demanded aggressively.

Gibbs looked at her for a minute, and then narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah, she came over, and I locked her in the basement," he retorted, deadpan. He set his jaw. "Does it look like she's here, Jen?" he asked tensely.

Jenny didn't look like she was in the mood for games.

"Jethro, so help me god – "

"She's not here!" he said hastily, dropping the fire poker and spreading out his arms.

Jenny paced forward, and then whirled around, looking for a moment as if she didn't believe him – she looked like she might start ripping open closet doors and checking under beds. She turned back to him, though, her eyes widening slightly. She came forward, leaning over and putting her hand on the table in front of his couch.

"If she's not here, where the fuck is she?" she asked hoarsely.

Before he had a chance to decide if the question was rhetorical to not, her face crumpled slightly, her eyes filling with tears.

"I don't know where she is," she said quietly, her voice cracking. "I can't – I can't – _find_ her!"

Gibbs stood up, gritting his teeth. He came around the table, immediately losing any hostility that had crept into his system when she walked in the door so brazenly – even if he hadn't been a parent, as an agent, he would have easily transitioned into crisis mode. He took her arm, and pulled her towards him.

"Let me – "

"What do you mean you can't find her?" he asked coolly, ignoring her.

"She's not – home, she didn't come home! _I told her to come home_!" Jenny panicked. She looked up at him. "You were there; you heard me on the phone – I told her come _straight_ home after school – "

Gibbs nodded.

"C'mere – sit down," he said gruffly.

He tugged her down on the couch and cleared his throat. He glanced at his watch.

"What time does she get out of school?"

"Three. With the commute – the school's in Fairfax – it takes her about an hour to get to Georgetown," she said. "Depends on how the trains are running – Jethro, she said she'd be home – "

"You said she's been – avoidin' home lately?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes, but I ordered her to be home – "

"Jen, if she's been – "

"Jethro, I called her friends, I called Jess, I called Emily, Tali – their parents," she said, shaking her head. "Her school said she left two hours early – that she had a note from me," Jenny's face darkened, "I didn't write her a goddamn note!"

Gibbs nodded. He paused a minute.

"I have to call the police," Jenny said, shaking her head. "I called my mother, but I can't – if she's not here, I don't understand – "

"You can't call the police," Gibbs said sharply. "Hell – I'm the police."

"You're the Navy police, you're not – "

"You think, if my daughter's missin', I'm gonna let local LEOs take point?" he interrupted harshly, narrowing his eyes.

Jenny's mouth closed audibly, and she fell silent. She reached up after a moment, and swiped at her eyes. Gibbs swallowed hard, and then sat forward a little, reaching up to rub his jaw.

"If she forged a note and skipped school, you really think someone took her or somethin'?" he asked logically.

Jenny bowed her head – there was no way he could understand how absolutely and totally out of character it was for Natalie to miss school, voluntarily or involuntarily, for any reason – and yet, he was probably right; Natalie would have made the biggest scene in the world rather than leave school if it wasn't on her terms.

She looked up, and pursed her lips.

"She's not with her friends, though," she said desperately. "She – I mean, it doesn't make any sense that she's not – here – "

"Why do you think she's here?" Gibbs asked roughly, a little angrily. "I sent her home last time, Jen, 'm not hiding her!"

He felt hostile, outraged at her accusation – as if he'd let it go on this long, anyway, if he was; he'd never want a mother to worry about her child like this; he knew that kind of fear. He turned towards her, throwing his hand out.

"You can search the house, Jenny."

She looked at him blankly for a moment; he could tell she was thinking, and then she reached to the side, and stuck her hand in her purse, pulling something out – a folded piece of paper, or maybe two – and she held it out, something slightly guarded and wary in her eyes.

"She wrote me a letter," she said, holding it out a little more. She swallowed hard, and he realized she was openly offering it to him to read.

Gibbs hesitated, and after a moment, he slowly took it, opening it. His eyes found the heading – _Dear Mom_ , an eerily similar beginning to a letter he'd received twelve years ago when he returned home from MOS training.

He looked up, and gave her a dry look.

"A letter," he remarked. "That's genetic," he said, under his breath.

Her fist collided with his arm. He lowered his eyes.

He read through it silently, his face expressing no emotion – it was a lot to take in; mostly heartfelt statements about how she felt like she'd been unfairly placed in the middle, and she needed a neutral third party to help her sort things out – she didn't think it was fair for Jenny to keep her from her father, but maybe he wasn't so keen on her if he wasn't going to butt heads with Jenny about it, and they needed to figure it out – and maybe she needed to be out of the way for that – part of it read like a goddamn suicide note, and the rest of it read like a forceful, irritated demand for her parents to grow up.

He found the last part, and shook his head a little –

"… _and I think, if you take a minute to talk to him, Dad might have some insight on where I've gone…"_

\- it ended soon after that, and he looked up to find Jenny staring at him with a piercing gaze, watching his reaction like a hawk. When she caught his eye, she arched her eyebrows subtly.

"Well, _Dad_?" she prompted edgily. "Have any _insight_?"

He sat there lamely, completely blindsided – she hadn't told him anything; Natalie hadn't called him, hadn't said a word to him – he hadn't seen her since her ill-fated trip to his house that early Saturday – he was sure he'd scared her off, and then after Jenny's visit he knew that Jenny wasn't keen on her making contact with him – as if that surprised him. Sitting here, with Natalie's mother terrified and waiting to hear something from him, he was frustrated – he tried to find something to say.

"Neutral third party," he mumbled. "What - ?"

"I _thought_ she meant California," Jenny said hoarsely. "I called my mother – I called her over and over, before I came here, until I finally got her – I didn't see the letter until I'd gone through all of Natalie's friends and I was almost out the door, it was in the hall – my mother, she's so – even now, she's unreliable," Jenny paused, swallowed hard. "But I finally got – my stepfather, and he said Natalie's not - -she's not there," she paused, licking her lips. "I mean, I guess she'd still be on a plane if she did that but she'd never – she can't afford a plane ticket, and he said he'd call airports," she trailed off.

Gibbs set the letter down, reaching up with both hands to rub his face. He turned his head, his eyes falling to the notebook he'd found on his doorstep. It was only a few seconds before Jenny followed his gaze, and then she stood up abruptly, reaching forward.

"That's Natalie's," she barked.

He stopped her, reaching out both of his arms, and she slapped his hands, still trying to dive over him and grab it.

"Sit down, Jen!" he growled.

She did, startled, her eyes flashing, and he reached for it.

" _You said she hadn't been here!"_ Jenny burst out, betrayal rocketing through her eyes. She stood up, placing a hand on her hip. "Jesus Christ, Jethro I've been – " she pointed to herself. "I don't know where my child is, my only child – and you sit there and you tell me – "

He stood up, to be on her level, clutching the notebook.

"She hasn't been here," he barked. "'M not lyin' to you – I've done this how you asked, Jen, I've played by rules, I let you take the lead – "

"Do you know how it feels – "

"Stop," he growled dangerously.

She did, and he narrowed his eyes, his face dark.

"I know how it feels," he hissed, falling silent again.

He knew how it felt to not know where his kid was; Jenny herself had made him feel that. He knew how it felt to lose one forever – he knew, and he understood, and he wasn't about to let her berate him in his own house when if anything, she was the one who had provoked Natalie to – to this.

He set his jaw, and shook the notebook at her.

"This was on my doorstep when I got home," he said harshly. "Wasn't here this morning." He thrust it at her, a little roughly. "She left a note in the back."

Jenny flipped through violently, read the note, pursed her lips, and then went to some of the pages, her lips moving furiously.

"' _June tenth, nineteen ninety-four – I scored three goals in my soccer game. I improved….October, nineteen ninety-six, Mom's been really sad since Grandfather died, I wonder if you'd be sad since you knew him too … I thought I'd see you at the funeral; I wanted to tell you … "_

Jenny broke off, shaking her head, and looking up.

"What the hell is this?" she asked shakily, almost rhetorically.

"You knew that was Natalie's," Gibbs said. "You tell me."

"She's had this – she's had this for years, _years,"_ Jenny said, in that same hushed, almost scared tone. "She hides it, I never asked her about it – people need a private place to – there's stuff in here from," she flicked through pages, "from when she was _six 'I liked the chocolate from Germany, thank you –'_ Jethro, what is this?"

She swallowed hard – she understood exactly what it was; she didn't know why she was asking. It was easy to tell as she read through it, even cursorily; it was things Natalie had wanted to tell her father. Nothing big. Small things. Grades she'd gotten on tests. Things she'd accomplished. Occasionally, there were questions she wanted answered – and Jenny realized this had been a private, ongoing thing; she'd been absolutely deluding herself all these years, thinking Natalie was blissfully unaware of her father; or happily didn't care that much.

Of course – she knew in Stillwater, at her father's funeral, that Natalie had curiosities, hopes – but this did a number on her; this really hurt, and she felt bad; she felt guilty. She stopped talking, closing the book. She handed it back to him, and sat down. She put her head in her hands and covered her eyes, withdrawing.

Gibbs swallowed, holding onto the notebook a moment. He'd already read through it more than once. He'd planned on taking his own pen, and answering the questions she'd written later, to give it back. It felt good to know that Natalie had always entertained interest in him; that she hadn't grown up without any thought about him – that he'd stayed in his mind. But it also made him feel heavy and terrible for not fighting tooth and nail, even if it meant dragging Jenny thought court, just to see her.

He gingerly sat the book down, and sat back down on the couch, pressing his knuckles together.

"Jen," he started.

She lifted her head, tears streaking her face – shockingly visible, because they ran down with black eye-make-up.

"I just need to know where she is," she gasped. "This is so, so far beyond teenage rebellion – this is dangerous, she can't just – she can't just – run off; it's so, so – " she broke off, desperate.

Gibbs waited a moment.

"Sucker-punch," Gibbs said finally. "It's a sucker-punch."

She nodded, wiping at her eye.

"Yes, that's exactly," she paused, licking her lips, and looking up, understanding flickering in her eyes. "Yes," she agreed, lowering her eyes uncertainly. Her lips trembled, and she wrapped her arms around her self.

Gibbs hesitated a moment, and then picked up the letter he'd left between him.

"You want to call your mom again?"

"I don't – I don't know," Jenny said. "She can't honestly have gone to California, but that's home to her, other than here; she wouldn't just flit off to – New York, or somewhere random, and there's nowhere else she has," Jenny paused.

She broke off, shaking her head – looking up suddenly. She turned sharply to Gibbs, her eyes widening, and then she nearly leapt out of her skin as her beeper went off, screaming into the silence. She swore, scrambling to grab the thing from her purse, and she closed her eyes tightly when she read the familiar number – he only had her beeper number for emergencies; otherwise, they always called him.

"Can I use your phone?" she asked weakly, handing him the beeper as if he should recognize the number.

He didn't. He felt like he should, but he didn't.

She was on the phone in an instant, her heart slamming against her chest every time it rang, and then finally, finally –

"Jackson!" Gibbs heard her gasp, her voice breaking.

He looked up warily, surprised.

Jenny swallowed hard as his gruff voice came on the line.

"Jenny, that you?"

"Jackson, please – "

"She called me from the Philadelphia Amtrak station at about four," Jackson said calmly. "I just got back to Stillwater."

Jenny leaned against the wall. Gibbs came up behind her, watching her use the phone. She pushed her hair back, gritting her teeth.

"Put her on the phone."

"Now just a minute," Jackson said calmly. "She's in the house, she's taking a shower – I swore I wouldn't call until she explained herself, but I'm not that much of an idiot. I got the idea she didn't tell you she was comin.'"

"No, she didn't," Jenny agreed harshly.

"And I wouldn't have allowed it if she'd called me before she left Washington," Jackson said. "But she's here, and she's – she's upset. I didn't get much out of her yet, but from what I hear, it's about you and Leroy."

Jenny ground her teeth together.

"Jackson, I don't want you taking sides in this – and that's between us, and me, and Natalie – I want – " Jenny broke off; she was about to order him to put Natalie right back on a bus for D.C., but she suddenly didn't want her teenage daughter taking a trip alone again, it worried her – getting to and from school in the local area was one thing, this kind of travel – and in her state –

"She's okay," Jenny," Jackson promised. "It's a Friday, she doesn't have school tomorrow."

"She's in – Jackson, she took off without my permission."

"Well, Jenny," Jackson said tiredly, but with firmness, "it got your attention."

Jenny closed her eyes. She covered the mouthpiece for a moment, trying to compose herself, and then Gibbs said something.

"You with Leroy?"

"Of course I'm with him," Jenny cried tensely. "I thought she'd gone to him – Jackson, my daughter needs to come home, _now_ – we have some serious issues to discuss, and I'm sorry she dragged you into it – "

"Can't be helped now," Jackson said calmly. He paused, and then took a deep breath. "Why don't I have her call you in the morning, and we can go from there."

"No," Jenny snapped. "You put her sorry ass on this phone right now – this isn't about me, or Jethro, or what we should be doing – "

"No," Jackson agreed sharply. "It's about Natalie, who hasn't had a choice in any of this bullshit until right about now."

Gibbs could tell from the look on Jenny's face that she was startled.

"I've had it with this," Jackson snapped, almost out of nowhere. "I never took your side, and I never took Leroy's side, 'cause I wanted to make sure I still got to see my granddaughter, and I've had it. The side I'm takin' is hers. And you two," he said authoritatively, "can figure this out."

He hung up.

He hung up the phone, and Jenny slammed it into the receiver, her face pale. She was silent for a while, and then she looked up, her cheeks flushing.

"She's in Stillwater," she said. "She's with – your father."

Gibbs was quiet for a moment.

"Neutral third party," he quoted.

She supposed, put that way, that he was right; Jackson Gibbs was about as neutral as it could get; he hadn't advocated Gibbs all these years, and he hadn't ever really told Jenny she was in the right, but he'd always, always been involved with Natalie. It was, naturally, to him she'd go when she wanted answers; it should have been clear to Jenny from the beginning – if Natalie wanted answers, unabridged, unedited, and raw – she'd have to go back to Stillwater, where she was, by association of small town scandal – famous.

Jenny, stunned for a moment, pushed away from the wall, and went to her purse. She kept swallowing hard, brushing at tears. She gathered her things, snatched the letter, and went towards the door; Bugsy darted after her.

"Wait – Jen, wait – where are you going?" Gibbs demanded.

She turned on him her face inches from his.

"I'm going to get her," she said fiercely, her face dark, angry - determined. "I'm going to get her, drag her ass back here – and she and I are going to resolve this."

"Don't you think that's what she's tryin' to do?" Gibbs asked sharply.

"This was so – asinine – so – dangerous, so immature," Jenny raged, her eyes welling up again. "I'm – I can't sit here and wait, Jethro; and I'm not letting her ride the train, or the bus or – I'm going to get her," she said, with absolute finality.

Gibbs studied her for a minute – sharp, scared eyes; set jaw – there was no changing her mind, he'd seen that look before; and strangely, he wondered if this is what Natalie had wanted; to force their hand – her note had said she'd see him soon, and he almost felt like he was being played as he said:

"I'll drive."

He went to the table and grabbed his keys roughly, pushing past Jenny, opening the door, and whistling at Bugsy.

"Get in the truck," he ordered, and Bugsy went flying out the door, leaping into the back of the old red GMC.

Jenny caught his hand.

"What are you – _talking_ about?"

"I'm going with you," he said, turning to her, his whole body facing her. "You want to go now, or you need to get a few things from home?" he demanded.

She shook her head, standing her ground.

"I don't need you involved in this!" she snapped. "We'll resolve this when I get her back here and talk to her – "

"No," he said, cutting her off icily.

" _No_?" she repeated. "You _will_ respect my – "

"Not anymore," Gibbs said abruptly, shaking his head. His eyes hardened. "I am done hangin' back, Jen. I am done backin' off when you tell me to. The only person who's gonna make decisions about me bein' in Natalie's life from now on," he said forcefully, "is _Natalie_."

He stood silently, glaring at her. He shook her arm off.

"You comin' or not?" he asked harshly, turning, and leaving the house.

She noticed he didn't bother to lock up; he left her standing there – and she wiped at her eyes, shell-shocked, scared, angry, confused – and after a moment, she gathered herself, and she went out after him, steeling herself boldly; given a choice between doing nothing, and taking a road trip to Stillwater to fetch her errant daughter alongside her high school sweetheart and estranged co-parent, she'd take the road trip.

Maybe, just maybe, that's what Natalie wanted all along.

She went out to the driveway, where an engine roared, and lights nearly blinded her, and she opened the door of the red vehicle, her face a mask of disbelief, of almost star-struck nostalgia, because as she climbed inside, and slammed the old door – looked at the stick-shift, inhaled the old, leathery scent, she remembered how many times she'd been in this truck – high school parking lots, nights by the river – escapes from their parents and everyone.

"You still have this truck?" she asked.

He slammed the gear into reverse, and Bugsy barked – joyfully.

"If it ain't broke," he growled sharply, his jaw twitching slightly.

Jenny turned; she felt like she'd been sucker-punched; God, he'd had this thing for ages, and not a damn thing had changed – it must not have gone to Europe with him, it must have just sat around, monolithic, a painful piece of the past that he never really tried to move on from – that she knew, because in the back seat she found – she lunged over the seat and picked it up, a faded, now dusty and dirty, crocheted baby blanket, with a fancy, needlework 'N' glittering in the corner.

Ann's work. Natalie's first baby blanket. They'd taken it everywhere.

It was one of the things Jenny had lamented losing when she moved to California.

She held it in her hand, looking at Gibbs' determined profile as he maneuvered the stick shift, refusing to look at her. She held on tightly to the blanket – Natalie's blanket, after all these years; still in this truck, still kept as a memento; he'd clearly never forgotten her – he'd never replaced Natalie, and as the old, worn out headlights shone down the long road ahead of them, Jenny wondered quietly, and with a strange, ethereal sort of kinship, if Shannon Gibbs had ever feared _her_ daughter was the one who was second best.

* * *

"If you think you're the only one  
she'll want in this world,  
then you don't know nothin'  
about girls."  
Miranda Lambert; Girls

* * *

 _feedback appreciated!_  
 _ahahah, back to Stillwater Hell, y'all!_

 _-alexandra_


	4. Famous in a Small Town

_a/n: this is my favorite chapter; have fun!_

* * *

Stillwater, Pennsylvania: 1999

Famous in a Small Town

* * *

Having already spent the entirety of the train ride, as well as the whole of Thursday night and most of the car ride from Philadelphia to Stillwater, in a state of extreme anxiety in guilt, Natalie Winter Gibbs had become significantly uninhibited about her little act of deception since the deed was done. It was probably one hell of an exhausted night's sleep that did the trick, but one thing was for sure: Saturday morning in Stillwater, she wasn't only convinced that she'd taken a bold and necessary step – no matter how much trouble she was going to get in – she was slightly smug about it.

And her grandfather called her on that when she came back from an exploratory jaunt around the property, and burst into the store for breakfast.

"You look mighty pleased with yourself, Natalie," Jackson Gibbs growled gently, giving her a mildly chastising look.

He silently offered her the coffee pot he was sitting with. She shook her head.

"You have anything – sugary, like soda…?"

He gestured to the back.

"Take your pick from the icebox," he said.

"Oh, I can pay."

"Nonsense, family doesn't pay," he said strictly. "Your mother lets you have soda for breakfast?" he asked, amused.

"Not per se," Natalie responded, waltzing down to the back to grab a glass bottle of coke – it tickled her to death, the old-fashioned glass bottle; so quaint and small town America. She loved it. She came back to the table, and popped the top open on the side of the wooden table, using it as a makeshift bottle opener. "It's more of an energy drink I'm addicted to – I think it's a pick-your-battles thing for her," she said. "You know, as in, if she lets me eat junk food at will, I might not notice I don't have a father around," she finished brightly.

Jackson grinned a little at the unabashed attitude – there was a lot about this child that was an even, formidable mix of both Jennifer and Leroy, and it was a pity that neither of them were around each other enough to plainly see it. He figured that might be about to change – and for the better. It was why, despite his reservations about stepping on parental toes, he was going to stick more by Natalie than anyone, in this.

Natalie sat down, her eyes shining.

"This property is gorgeous – all that brush down by the creek? There's a little glaze of ice over the water, but you can hear it bubbling underneath – and I went to get the paper at the end of your drive, by the fire hydrant, and someone next door waved at me – "

"That'd be Missus Overton," Jackson said.

"Does she know who I am?"

"'M afraid everyone knows who you are, Bug," Jackson said, snorting. "S'far back as town memory goes, your Mama's the only one who got knocked up so young. Well, now," he paused, forehead crinkling. "There might have been a girl in my wife's grade, maybe seventeen years old…but her parents hushed that up and shipped her off, I think," he shook his head. "Different times. _Your_ parents," he remarked, "flaunted it."

"Flaunted it?" Natalie quoted skeptically – she didn't get the impression that her mother had ever proudly born the badge of teenage pregnancy. She arched an eyebrow at her grandfather, and he tilted his head back and forth.

"Maybe that ain't right," he said, thinking. "I'm sayin', whatever she was thinkin', or feelin', she didn't put her head down. And she stayed in school. That was bold. She – ah, what'm I tryin' to say," he muttered vaguely. "She bucked expectations. Leroy did too, I s'pose. Scandalized a lot of people, the way they didn't hide."

Natalie pressed her lips together.

"Leroy?" she asked.

"That's what everyone 'round here calls my boy," Jackson said firmly. "Nobody ever called him Jethro except your mama. And Shannon, I reckon," he added, after a moment.

Natalie sat back, peeling the label off her Coca-Cola. She wondered why that was, and thought maybe she'd ask later. She was realizing there was so much she didn't know, now that she was here; she was realizing abruptly that she didn't know much at all about how her parents had started out, or what their lives had been like – she knew they left Stillwater because her mother hated it, her mother was treated like a leper, and she wanted bigger and better things for them both. But – she didn't know anything about Stillwater.

Natalie blew some hair out of her face.

"You know, I called her last night," Jackson said sharply. "Your mother."

Natalie looked at him mildly.

"I know," she said, shrugging. "I knew you'd call her, even if I asked you to wait," she said simply.

"You got to call her this mornin', honey," he advised. "She was – spittin' mad, and from what I could tell, pretty damn worried."

Natalie shook her head, and leaned forward, pressing the coke bottle to her lips. She took a drink, and then lowered it.

"I don't have to call her," she said, going on quickly when he gave her a gentle glare, "she's on her way to get me."

Jackson arched his brows.

"You think she's drivin' all the way to Stillwater just to – "

Natalie nodded firmly.

"Was she at my Dad's when you called her? Or paged her – whatever?"

Jackson nodded warily. Natalie shrugged.

"Good," she said flatly. "She assumed I'd be there – I left something with him, so he'd know I … whatever has happened all these – it didn't have anything to do with me not wanting to see him," she said heavily. She winced a little, blinking sharply. "It's this notebook, you sent me in one of my Christmas packages," she revealed. "I kept it full of stuff I'd tell him or ask him. I didn't tell Mom about it, because, you know," Natalie paused. "Well, I always knew it was hard for her."

She sat quietly for a moment, and then her face darkened.

"If I'd have known she was just keeping him at arm's length for her own sake, I'd have been more aggressive."

Jackson smiled a little.

"If it means anything at all, kid," he said seriously, "I always thought she thought she was doing the right thing by you."

"At the expense of your own son?" Natalie asked.

Jackson held up two hands tensely.

"Now – look, me'n'Leroy – that's above your paygrade, Bug, that's bad blood that's got nothin' to do with you. It wasn't my place to fight Leroy's battles, 'specially when it came to you; that was _his_ responsibility. And I always wondered why he just let you go." Jackson looked at his granddaughter for a moment, and then went on, not wanting to leave her thinking her father didn't want her. "Before Shannon and Kelly's funeral, I hadn't seen him since eighty-seven," he said grudgingly, "but I can tell you that the day he left, day he found out you were gone? Had to be one of the worst days of his life, until last February. Could see it in his eyes."

Natalie smiled a little sadly.

"I think that's comforting," she said, a bit dry – it was strange to hear her grandfather say he didn't bear Jenny ill will; it was just nice to hear him say he thought her father had missed her, and missed her terribly.

She felt – contented, with many of his words; his lack of animosity towards her mother helped her cope with her conflicted feelings, her inability to truly and wholly be angry at Jenny because she loved her, and appreciated her, so much. His neutrality about her father, saying neither truly negative things or glowingly positive things, indicated a genuine desire to just let her figure it out, make her own decisions – and that was what she needed – badly.

Natalie pushed her soda aside, and looked intently at her grandfather.

"I'm here because I don't understand anything about this," she said frankly, her voice soft. "I _barely_ remember being here, but I don't remember being _unhappy_ here. I love my mother and I want to know my father and for some reason," she held up her hands, and knocked her knuckles together lightly, "that isn't meshing. And it doesn't make sense, because I've been over what I've been told, and what I've figured out, a thousand times, and it doesn't seem like anyone did anything – so heinous that its irreparable," she said. She paused, and bit her lip. "Except – maybe Mom," she allowed, "but – but even if I don't understand…some of the things she's done, and even if I'm so, so angry…I like the way I grew up. And I appreciate her protectiveness but it – I think it has to stop now. It's just – not fair," she finished hoarsely.

Jackson considered her for a moment. He raised his hand, and pointed firmly.

"You are a very smart young lady," he said simply, nodding his head emphatically. He lowered his hand, and picked up his mug.

Natalie nodded, and swallowed.

"Thank you," she said. "I know."

He grinned a little, and took a thoughtful sip of coffee.

"Hell, I sure wish your grandmother was here to see you," he said heavily. "She'd be so proud – so impressed."

Natalie bit her lip.

"She would?"

"Aw, yeah," Jackson said seriously. He pushed his finger into the countertop. "No one on this earth loved you more than that woman – 'cept your parents, but I figure that goes without saying," he said. "You know, I got to admit my own fault – and Jasper's, too, I know he felt the same – we never disliked you, but havin' you around was a hard adjustment, a hard reminder of the mess the kids got into," he said. He shook his head fondly. "Ann? Never. She accepted it the day they told us and she never had a mean word to say, she never spent her time cursin' the choices, or makin' Leroy or Jennifer's life hell – naw, she was in y 'all's corner, never failed," he explained.

He took a deep breath.

"This whole thing, with your Mom and Dad…it would have broken her heart," Jackson said. He smiled wryly. "But I figure, if she hadn't died, things might have gone on okay. Lord knows it tore Leroy up when his mother died – rightly so – but I don't think he could see how bad it hurt Jenny, too. She still was on bad terms with her daddy back then," he said. He snorted suddenly. "Listen to me, ain't even finished my coffee yet and I'm ramblin' on like an old man – go on, you explore, call your Mama – "

"No, Grandpa Jack," Natalie interrupted earnestly, shaking her head. "This is exactly why I'm here – I want to hear these things. My mother – she never talks about Stillwater, or even what it was really like being a teen mother here, with Dad. She plays it so close to the vest, and I know it's personal, and painful, but I want to hear stories," she said emphatically. "I _want_ to understand."

She licked her lips.

"I know she was ostracized, I know people called her a slut, and things were more liberal in California - but since she spent so long not really wanting to mention Stillwater because it inevitably brought up my father, I just don't know any – organic, raw stories," she explained. "Tell me stories, Grandpa Jack," she pleaded. "Talk to me about my parents. I want someone to _talk_ to me about them. Especially my father."

After a long moment of consideration, Jackson smiled.

"Well," he said thoughtfully, standing up with effort. "I reckon that makes a lot of sense." He glanced at his watch, and then at the old bell that hung above the door of the General Store – his eyes may be going, but his ears were sharp; he'd hear the bell if they went up to the storage area. He beckoned to Natalie.

She leapt up and followed him, up the rickety, dusty old stairs that lead to excess storage above the store – inventory was in the back, always chock full of goods, but up here was miscellaneous overflow, and things that didn't fit in the cramped attic of the Gibbs' house that stood way out back on General Store property.

Natalie crept into the spacious room behind him, tilting her head up at the rafters, spinning around. He cleared his throat, and pointed.

"That window seat? Your mother used to study there, after she got pregnant. Her father never left her at home alone while she was expectin', and hardly ever when she had you; made him too nervous," Jackson explained. "She'd sit there and read, all cozy up here, with tea my wife made her."

"And – my dad?" Natalie asked.

"He was at work, all the time," Jackson said flatly. "Me'n'Jenny's old man made damn sure of that."

Natalie went over to the window seat and sat down as if she belonged there. She looked around – there was a jewelry box, and an old stack of books – a trunk.

"That stuff," Jackson said, gesturing at it, "is either your grandmother's or Jennifer's; if she left it, I put it up here. You can go through it," he muttered, turning. "Ah, here," he said, grunting as he dragged something into view. "This cradle, we kept it in the store, for when Ann was watchin' you – moved it around. Leroy slept in it – old family heirloom," he said, watching Natalie's eyes light up as she came over.

She crouched down and ran her hands over it, inhaling.

"It's so tiny," she murmured.

"It didn't last long – we got you in one of those newfangled play-pen thingamajigs after a while," Jackson said plainly. "Your crib, that was a piece of work – Leroy and I built it, bare hands and all," he paused. "It's still up at the house, though – c'mon, you can come tear this attic apart later," he muttered.

Natalie followed him down the stairs again, starstruck, almost unable to believe he was – opening her eyes this much. Out the back of the store they went, and she caught up, questions bubbling to her lips.

"You never moved the crib?" she asked astutely. "Why – "

"Well, I did, but I put it back out when, ah," Jackson broke off. He swallowed hard. "When Shannon came to visit. Kelly was a newborn, only time I ever really met her," he said, a little choked up. "I felt a little guilty offerin' her your crib, but she didn't mind at all…never did pack it all up again," he added. "'Sides, Leroy helped built it, and it was one of Leroy's babies in it, anyway."

Natalie nodded, swallowing. Her face fell a little.

"You only met Kelly once?"

"They lived overseas, you know," Jackson said gruffly, his face carefully composed. "Paris. For mos' the time. Hard to travel. My passport expired when I left the Air Force."

"You were military too, then?" Natalie asked. She looked down. "And so was Grandpa Jasper," she said. "And Max – Max is my mother's stepfather," she supplied.

"Uh-huh – and my old Dad, too," Jackson said proudly. "You got military in you from ten different lines," he joked. "I think the only thing we don't got is the Navy," he said.

"Well, Mom's NCIS," Natalie supplied lightly.

"Okay, honorary Navy," Jackson allowed.

Natalie grinned, following him into the house, and up the stairs. He took her into Leroy's old room – it didn't look much different than it had; he'd only really attended to it when Shannon had come to visit, because he'd put her up in there.

She felt strange as he showed her Gibbs' bedroom – it looked eerie, almost; exactly the way a nineteen-year-old Marine would have left it, except Jackson had probably made the bed, and cleaned up. He had baseball cards on the counter, and a Raquel Welch poster on the wall, in full ten thousand B.C. regalia – Natalie crinkled her nose, she almost laughed.

"Here's your crib," Jackson said gruffly, pointing – it was in a corner, looking large. "We kept it by the fireplace, downstairs, when you were a baby – see, you lived with your Mama," he said.

Natalie nodded fervently.

"When – Grandpa Jasper died," she said, swallowing hard; she always thought of him fondly – her favorite memory was of him surprising her mother at the California State graduation. "I saw where my old nursery used to be, in his house – Mom's old room…we cleaned out some stuff, but she was so upset over him then, we didn't talk much," she trailed off. "But I had a crib here, too?"

"For when your grandfather was workin' night shifts, he didn't let Jennifer stay in the house alone with you – not sure I blame 'im, sixteen year old with a newborn," snorted Jackson. "She'd come stay here, but Leroy, he'd sleep in the living room with you, on the couch, t'give Jenny a break, let 'er sleep."

Jackson paused, smirking a little.

"Think they always snuck around with each other down there, stayin' up late, plottin' against us adults, tryin' to make their own way with you – but we let 'em get away with it," he said.

He looked back on a lot of it with more empathy and amusement now – everything then had been so stressful, difficult – dark. Not just for the kids, though lord knew Jenny and Leroy thought they were the only ones affected badly, but for their parents, too – they hadn't known how to adjust their parenting doctrines around two kids who had their own baby any more than Jenny and Gibbs had been able to stake their claim as parents when they weren't even legal adults.

Natalie sat down gingerly on her father's old bed, looking at the crib.

"He made that mobile," Jackson said gruffly. "Made it without my help, in woodshop. At the high school."

Natalie bit her lip, looking at it. She got up and came over, touching it lightly with her fingers – it was so simple; a wooden concoction with carved wooden figures, rudimentary, but with a hint of talent that hadn't been harnessed yet, dancing from braided, thick rawhide string. Easily something one could make in a high school shop.

"I think he probably got a lot of shit for it," Jackson reflected mildly.

That made Natalie smile. She flushed a little, pleased as she thought about it – he'd put all that effort into making something for her, and that was so good to know. She crossed her feet at the ankles, tilting her head as she bit her bottom lip a little.

She wished for a desperate moment she could remember what it was like, to have both of her parents around, together, obviously on her side and only her side; facing the world together. She wasn't naïve enough to think there had been anything romantic about the odds they had faced, but it was inherently heartwarming to know that there'd been a time when they really cared for each other, insomuch as teenagers could ever really grasp the full maturity of love.

She looked over at her grandfather.

"Do you think he was a good dad?" she asked quietly.

Jackson hesitated. He folded his arms. He seemed to consider it, and then he gave a somewhat grudging smile, and nodded curtly.

"For someone who didn't know what the hell he was doin'? Yeah, I reckon," he allowed. He set his jaw a little. "I was sure he was always going to shirk things off on his Ma, but that boy…hell," Jackson swore. "Jasper saddled him with pretty steep child support, Natalie," Jackson told her bluntly, "he worked two jobs – down at the mine, landscaping – and he got through school. So he was doin' most of the workin', I think, and Jenny doin' most of the parenting, but that wasn't quite her fault."

Natalie could tell that despite his dissatisfaction with his son, Jackson got a bit nettled at this part.

"I ain't got a daughter, so I don't know how the old Chief was feelin', but he made sure Jenny got full custody, made sure she was going to have more of a chance to get through high school – and didn't give a damn about my boy. I think it really chapped his ass that Leroy got his diploma and Jenny had to go back for the certificate."

Natalie tensed slightly.

"Well, I know mom told me I got sick a few times the first winter," she said. "And going back to school was _hard_ , she worried about me, she was more concerned about being a good mother – "

"Easy, kid," Jackson said fondly, holding up his hands. "I'm not meanin' to say a word against your mother. She did so much. She put up with _so_ much, and her daddy wasn't helpin' her a _bit_ with it." Jackson paused, and then he narrowed his eyes. "I think back on it a lot, now. The both of them … deserved more credit than we gave 'em, back then – me and Jasper, I mean; I already told you Ann was their champion. They were kids, and they did stupid shit, but," he paused, and nodded for effect. "There's kids that's done worse, in their circumstances."

He shrugged, and smiled at her.

"I mean, look atchu," he said gruffly. "Smart as a whip, never ran into trouble with the law, independent," he listed. He looked at her wryly a moment. "Your mother was independent too, now," he snorted. "Careful, there."

"She warns me," Natalie said softly, enamored. She licked her lips. "What stupid shit?" she asked. "Mom – she told me, one time, Gibbs wrote my name on my nose in black marker."

"He did," Jackson griped, rolling his eyes. "Blasted idiot – thought it was cute, and I bet you think it's a cute story, too, but it stung your eyes after a minute and Ann had to get it off with rubbing alcohol."

"She didn't tell me that part," Natalie agreed.

"Bet she also didn't tell you that she thought it was adorable until you started crying, and then threw a fit and blamed Leroy for the whole thing," he snorted.

Natalie shook her head, somewhat amused. She rested her hand on the crib, running her fingers lightly on the edge.

"Did they ever come close to killing me?" she asked wryly.

"Not that I know of," Jackson said dryly. "Think the worse was, once you grabbed a mouse trap at your mother's house, snapped your little fingers so hard they bruised, and Leroy claimed it was because your mother was too focused on some college application instead of watching you, so he brought you here to stay the night. She didn't like that, but when she told her father, he tore her a new one for letting you get hurt and said it served her right. 'Course," snorted Jackson, "then he came over here and barked at Leroy for treatin' you like a bargaining chip instead of a human being, but Leroy was just protecting you."

Natalie nodded, leaning forward. She didn't rest her weight too heavily on the crib – it seemed old, delicate – and she pursed her lips.

"Mom told me little stuff like that," she ventured. "Not that, specifically, but how she'd – mess up, how scary it was for her. She said she was anxious all the time. Other moms could make mistakes, and that was just parenting, but if she made a mistake," Natalie snapped, "Oh, hell no. Unacceptable."

"Yeah, we treated them like that," Jackson admitted heavily. "They treated each other like that."

Natalie smiled a little.

"It's nice, to hear about them," she said quietly. "I know my mom hated it here," she sighed, almost to herself. "I'm just…trying to understand why that had to result in Gibbs just being…excluded from my life."

Jackson was quiet for a moment.

"Your parents were very young," he said finally. "They both had strong personalities. Uncompromising standards can be a person's downfall," he mused, "and most people don't learn to let go of their pride until they're older. They don't realize that there's no shame in bending, but there can be a whole lot of trouble in just breaking rather than compromising."

Natalie pushed her hair back – it was a wise comment; by the minute, she was more satisfied she had done this – come here. She was going to prowl the shops later—introduce herself maybe, see what she could glean from the townies; she was just biding her time, really – and while she did so, she had her grandfather to herself, and he was talking – talking like he'd refused to talk when she asked him about her father all those years ago.

She straightened up, coming around the edge of the crib. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her jeans and arched her eyebrows.

"So, in the shed," she began, "there's a pretty sweet car."

She let the observation hang, and her grandfather scratched his chin.

"Saw that, did you?" he asked.

He turned, and beckoned.

"C'mon."

She hopped down the stairs after him, sparing a moment's glance for the living room – of course she'd seen it last night, because she'd fallen asleep by the fire after her shower, and Jackson hadn't had the ability to carry her up to a bedroom. It was why she hadn't seen the upstairs last night – she'd used everything downstairs.

There was a picture of her late grandmother on the mantle she had been particularly taken with.

She followed Jackson out towards the shed, watching him heave it open, leaving the classic looking, wild yellow car open to the cool winter sun. Natalie grinned and ran her hand over, it, walking around slowly.

"That there was your father's pride and joy," Jackson said dryly. "Spent every time he had tinkerin' with it, buyin' stuff with it – he was damn near about to sell that old truck we gave 'im to get it runnin'," Jackson explained. "I've got no doubt that he was gonna leave us all in the dust the day he graduated."

Natalie perched against the hood, her eyes glittering.

"He's good at this kind of thing, isn't he?" she asked earnestly. "Good, old-fashioned manual labor – craftsmanship," she went on thoughtfully. "The mobile, working on the car – scientific minded," she remarked.

"Scientific?" scoffed Jackson. "The boy barely passed a science class his whole life."

"Thomas Edison was considered an idiot by his teachers," Natalie retorted brightly. "Einstein failed general examinations to get into school in Switzerland," she told him.

"Natalie, I don't know what kind of genius you've built up your father to be," Jackson began, snorting skeptically.

"No, listen: some people don't understand things if they see no purpose to them," she said. "I mean – so, look; you have to understand mechanics, and many aspects of science and mathematics, to put together objects and correctly configure the make-up of a car, or the dimensions needed to measure, cut, and carve wood, right?" she began, spreading her hands out. "Well, if you tell someone 'here's an equation, find 'x' – they might think – what's the freakin' point of finding 'x'? What will I use it for? But in you tell the same someone that in order to correctly construct a baby's mobile to spin on an axis, then need to calculate what 'x' is in regards to length and cut of wood, they can do it without thinking," she said simply. "Learning is about purpose and aligning teaching with what students are interested in – it's not about spitting out facts like a robot if there's no overall meaning to what's been learned."

Jackson blinked at her. His mouth felt a little dry. He arched an eyebrow.

"Guess I didn't do Leroy a whole lot of good berating him for bein' dumb with his grades," he said wryly.

Natalie lifted her shoulders demurely, but winked.

"People are smart in different ways," she insisted. "George Washington, Harry Truman, and Abraham Lincoln were incredibly influential and intelligent men who didn't have college degrees – but two of them had significant practical experience and outstanding military careers."

"Are you workin' on some speech to get you out of college, for your Ma?" Jackson asked, with a look at his granddaughter.

She laughed.

"No," she said, tilting her head. "I'm going to college, and I'm going to work for NASA. I'm extremely smart and I thrive in structured academic environments – I do well independently learning, and I take tests with ease," she recited. "But some people don't." She shrugged simply. She ran her hand over the hood of the car. "I didn't get my brain from just one parent," she said confidently. "I can tell."

Jackson smiled a little.

"You're throwin' me for a loop, Natalie," he said, sighing a little. "Knew you were smart last time I saw you – but you've got the maturity to go with it."

Natalie arched a brow.

"Can you write that down for my mother?" she asked. "I need a character witness for the past couple of days – and when I'm out of the doghouse, I have to get back on convincing her to let me graduate high school a year early."

Jackson sucked in his breath, out of his element. Natalie hopped off the car, and turned, running her hands along the edge.

"What's the engine like – can I look at it? I bet I can help get it running," she mused.

"Do you now?" Jackson asked.

Natalie nodded, fumbling around intuitively to find how to open the hood. She ignored the numbness in her fingers from the cold and found the metal rod to prop it open, peering inside – she liked figuring stuff like this out. She knew some stuff about cars – her mother had always thought it important for girls to know how to change tires, oil, jump engines – things that traditionally males did, but that Jenny didn't have the luxury of remaining ignorant of, as a single mom. Natalie had, as she always did, taken it a step further and read a whole book on how cars worked.

"Dad was building this," she said out loud, almost to herself. She looked over, her hair falling over her shoulder. "Why'd he quit?"

Her grandfather raised his eyebrows at her.

"'Cause if he had any free time, he spent it with you."

Natalie's face flushed slightly. She looked back at the car – of course she'd interfered; but at least she knew that he hadn't let teenage selfishness get the best of him, and ignored her for a car; he'd kept an old truck, and dragged tired feet to try and be a father. These were good things to hear, things to know – things that made it easier to believe hadn't given up on her in a simple, conventional sense – things that bolstered her hope that everything was salvageable – between her mother, her father, and the three of them as a whole.

It wasn't even romance she wanted for them; it was civility, so it could work for _her_.

She pursed her lips, and stepped back, hands on her hips. Whatever she was poised to say was cut off by a somewhat hysterical, livid _shout;_ Natalie's headturned quickly, though she wasn't as startled as Jackson. Her natural reaction to that tone was to cringe and shrink away slightly, but she managed to hold her ground slightly defiantly this time as she shoot a glance at her grandfather.

"Told you so," she said pertly.

* * *

It was something about Pennsylvania, the Columbia Country line, that demanded Jenny say something – initiate conversation, break the thick and loaded silence that hung in the air like molasses – a road trip was an eerie affair when the mood was so brittle and tense.

Lifting her head from the window, where she'd placed it so warily, and let it vibrate subtly along with the movement of the truck, lulling her into a sort of hypnosis, she turned slightly, and parted her lips, hesitating only a moment before she spoke.

"Why didn't you tell her?" she asked.

It had been so long since she'd said a word that her voice came out strained, as if she had bronchitis. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat softly, waiting – it was almost daybreak, and the light outside was an eerie violet. Coming through the windshield, it cast his face in an almost sinister glow.

His eyebrows went up a little at her words, but other than that, he gave no indication he'd heard her – he was used to the silence, too, even comfortable with it – their conversation had revolved solely around technicalities and the frustrations of this trip, a trip that should have got them to Stillwater just after midnight, but due to almost absurd circumstances that in some astronomical way must be on NASA-loving Natalie's side, it had lasted damn near the whole night.

Bugsy had been scarily calm and at peace in the bed of the truck the whole ride.

Jenny rubbed her hand over her knee.

"Jethro?" she prompted.

After a moment, his jaw twitched slightly.

"Tell her what?" he countered neutrally.

Jenny smiled skeptically, turning her head and looking out the front window.

"You know what," she replied, a little sharply – she had no interest in playing games; not now, not anymore – not that it had ever been a game to her, regardless of what he thought. She took a breath, holding it tensely. "You had the moment – she was there, at your house, me none the wiser – you had the chance to eviscerate me," she said, "tell her I left and whisked," Jenny flicked her hand derisively, "her away with me. You didn't."

She bit down on her cheek, her jaw stiff.

"Why?" she repeated, quietly.

His knuckles whitened a little on the steering wheel; she turned to him, studying his profile, and after a moment, he shrugged roughly.

"Didn't seem right."

She let out her breath, startled. Her brows went up.

"Didn't seem – where'd all that anger go, all that venom?" she asked hoarsely. "You had the upper hand, and you – you sent her home to _me_ , instead."

He shook his head a little, his jaw twitching. He didn't say anything about his anger or the animosity he'd felt towards her – the truth was, it had faded – the initial acidic emotion had faded years ago, only to flare back up when something specific, or some new rejection from Jenny, provoked it; it had been dulled by time, acceptance, an increasing maturity and – his increasingly firm belief that it was nothing compared to the other things he'd had to face.

"Wouldn't have done any good, Jen," he said gruffly. He shook his head in a curt way, eyes still firmly fixed on the road. His lips turned up in a tiny, sardonic smirk. "Always thought I'd want to tell her. Hold it over you. Throw it in your face," he said pointedly – that at least got out a little of his latent anger, and frustration, with Jenny and her choices. He shook his head. "Might have been worth it for a minute, but badmouthin' you to her? Her mother? To make me look good or feel better?" he shook his head again, determined, a little sad. "That's manipulative. Isn't right, to do to your kid."

He spoke from personal experience, to an extent; his father had been cavalier with his opinions of Ann Gibbs sometimes – always loudly bitching about their fights when they had them, making offhand remarks around his son that Gibbs internalized, and didn't appreciate. He used Ann for a scapegoat when he said no. Gibbs remembered that; it stuck with him.

"Your one chance to get back at me, and you really didn't want to?" Jenny asked hesitantly.

He turned his head and looked at her finally, a sharp, quick, but poignant look before he focused back on the road.

"You the same person you were fourteen years ago?" he asked, abrupt and harsh – irritated, clearly.

"I – no," Jenny answered, startled – slightly defensive. "Of course not," she murmured tensely.

"Then why d'you think I am?" he asked, somewhat coolly. He grit his teeth. "I don't care about _gettin' back at you_ ," he quoted distastefully. "I care about fixin' somethin' I never should have let get broken."

Jenny turned her head, resting her knuckles against her cheek. Gibbs was quiet a moment, and then he rolled his shoulders a little, his neck making a soft _pop_ as he stretched. He cleared his throat quietly.

"She needed to hear it from you, anyway," he said emphatically. "You were always tellin' me I didn't understand. It was your damn choice," he growled, almost under his breath. "She had to hear it from you."

Jenny's knuckles brushed her lips.

"That's fair," she conceded hoarsely.

"You tell 'er the truth?" Gibbs asked stiffly, wary of her motives – he'd always wondered, all these years, what Jenny was telling Natalie about him, if anything at all.

"I told her the truth," Jenny said, blinking sharply. She sat up a little, thrusting her hand towards the road. "Clearly, I told her the truth – she ran away," she stated tersely, her teeth gritted. "I have fourteen years of hindsight, too, Jethro – I told her as straight as I could. _And she picked up and ran away,_ " Jenny emphasized, half-angry, half-distressed. "There's your proof I didn't gild the whole thing and give myself a halo."

She put her knuckles back to her lips, wrapping her arm around her abdomen, and turned her head, eying him uncertainly. Under her intent gaze, after a moment, his lips turned up in a grim smirk, and he flexed his hands again, the knuckles whitening and blushing in a quick flash.

"Bastard," she murmured, though the manner in which the pejorative was hurled was _almost_ good-natured in its quiet, resigned acceptance. "I knew – there had to be some part of you that relished this."

"You blame me?" he asked mildly, shrugging.

She didn't respond immediately. She didn't; she took full responsibility for short-changing Natalie when it came to Gibbs, and furthermore, she was still a little amazed that he hadn't been as vindictive and vengeful as he could have been – as he possibly had _somewhat_ of a right to be.

"You weren't completely innocent," she said finally, broaching the subject with caution. "I didn't issue a restraining order."

"Not legally," he said derisively.

She licked her lips and rested her head back against the seat, lifting her eyes. She sighed, and turned her head towards him.

"You went completely off the grid after Desert Storm," she said tentatively. "I thought the first thing you'd do when you got back was call us – Natalie at least, but," she paused, licking her lips again. "It was just cards, from someone else – until you wanted to meet," she reminded him. "Out of the blue."

This time, Gibbs didn't answer – he figured it was natural that they started talking like this, considering their length of time in the car, and how quiet it had been, and how much they had to discuss, but the only person he was used to talking about this stuff with was – Shannon, and if he started discussing what had happened on his side back then, he'd have to talk about her. He wasn't sure if he was ready – if he could – share that part of his life with Jenny.

He swallowed hard, and forced himself to – he'd have to; not for Jenny, not to satisfy any curiosity she had, or confirm any of her suspicious, but to prove that he was capable of being in Natalie's life, that it wasn't just some half-assed, hollow attempt at healing himself.

If there was one thing – one single thing – he had taken away from Dr. Macy, the Marine Corps mental health counselor who'd seen him after the court martial, it was that he was only going to heal with time, and nothing self-destructive or unhealthy would particularly assuage the pain.

He should have learned _that_ when joining the Marines never actually helped him deal with his mother's death.

"Wasn't out of the blue," he said grudgingly. He kept his hands steady on the wheel, and imagined his voice as steady as his grip. "Got a medical evacuation from Kuwait, in ninety-one. I was in a coma in Germany for nineteen days," he rushed through that part – he didn't remember any of it, and he didn't want any sympathy for it. "Woke up in Portsmouth Naval Hospital. I had…issues," he said vaguely, gruffly. "Memory issues. Had a long recovery to go through, and I," he paused stiffly, "I couldn't keep you and Shannon straight, sometimes."

He swallowed hard after he admitted it.

Jenny touched her shoulder, pressing her fingers into her collar lightly.

"You were seeing her then?" she asked softly.

Gibbs nodded once, curtly.

"How long after we – broke up?" Jenny asked, shamelessly giving into her need to know.

Gibbs's jaw twitched tensely, and he tilted his head to the side.

"Two years," he answered finally.

"Ah," Jenny said. "When did you get married?"

He looked uncomfortable.

"Ninety-two – what the hell's it matter, Jen?" he asked edgily. "You saw other men – Natalie told me you dated her _teacher_ , and you think you had a right to keep me from her because I got married?"

Jenny made a mental note to tell Natalie not to gossip like that anymore, and rubbed her shoulder again, shaking her head.

"No, it's _not_ that you got married," she said tersely. "So, in ninety-three, when you came to see her—before you went to Virginia – you were married – and that's what it felt like, to me, Jethro, that you were there because she – your wife – told you to go make amends, and I wondered if it was really what you wanted, if I could _rely_ on you," she listed, sitting up a little. "I understand that you were struggling with the loss of comrades and post-traumatic issues – my father fought in Viet Nam, Jethro, I could have understood that if you'd just given me even one call," she said.

She pushed her hair back, turning towards him as much as her seat belt would allow.

"But there I was – I didn't know for sure you were married, but I saw your ring. I thought this other woman wanted – I don't know, to take my daughter – "

"She wanted me to see my kid," Gibbs interrupted harshly. "She isn't – she _wasn't_ ," he corrected, stumbling over the tense. "She wasn't a – monster, she wasn't jealous, she just – "

"Okay, Jethro, I believe that, but do you understand that even now, you explaining this to me – I still wonder if maybe I did make the right decision? You were struggling, and I do get that, and I'm sure recovering brought up all the bad memories of me, and you had to heal all over – but you also managed to have a good relationship and get married in the midst of all that. And do you think maybe, instead of courting her, you should have been reaching out to me and Natalie?"

His face paled slightly; not fear, but anger. He turned to her, and gave her a dangerous look.

"Don't act like you'd have made it easy, Jen," he growled angrily. "Don't sit there and put on that act."

"It might not have been easy, but at least – "

"No," he snapped sharply. "You listen – when I called, you kept her time on the phone short – you picked a fight with me in front of her when I came to visit, you made it seem like I was a bad influence, a hassle – you didn't want me there," he said coldly. "That had a hell of a lot to do with me _givin' up_ ," he quoted sarcastically. "You should know better than anyone there's only so much a guy can take."

"I should know? What's that supposed to mean."

"The whole goddamn town of Stillwater treated you like a burden, like it was a relief when you were gone!" he retorted, raising his voice. "I watched 'em do it! You ran off across the country to get away from it!"

Her eyes widened slightly, enlightened – it was a painfully interesting way to put it, and of course, she knew deep down that she had been brittle around him, tense and protective, and it had been about Natalie, but when she was young it had been all about her, too, and how hard it was to break up with her first boyfriend and the man who she thought was the love of her life and somehow be mature enough to navigate parenting with him.

She couldn't do it at nineteen. She just couldn't. That attitude and that choice had led them to where they were today – among other circumstances – but she'd spent so long comforting herself as she grew up and saw more clearly, convincing herself there were several reasons she was in the right and everyone would understand her – it was hard to face the egregious mistakes she'd made.

Jenny pushed her hair back, and sat away from him slightly, turning her head. She looked out the window at the rapidly passing landscape, and closed her eyes heavily. She chewed on the inside of her lip for a moment, and then turned her head, angling her body oddly, her back resting against the windshield, seatbelt looped behind her.

"I'm going to ask you some questions," she said tiredly. "I want to hear the answers from you, instead of prying them out of Mike or Dan."

He didn't look at her; he didn't even nod. Presumably, he was just waiting, so she swallowed hard, and plowed on.

"Natalie said that a couple of years ago, your handwriting showed back up on the cards," she said neutrally. "She said that on one from ninety-seven or – something – there was a number, international. Ninety-seven was…before you – lost them," she went on carefully. "Why did you start sending the cards again?"

Gibbs moved his head from side to side, cracking his neck – everything in him felt so tense and sore; he'd been sitting in the same rigid, defense position for hours on end, and the anticipation of arriving in Stillwater – a place they both hated – where he'd have to face not only his father and his current reality, but the graves of his wife and daughter – weighed on him, _heavily_. He wasn't sure he knew how to answer well.

He unstuck his jaw, cleared his throat.

"Shannon was gonna send a picture of us one year," he explained tightly. "Me, her," he took a long pause, "Kelly." He shook his head. "We fought about it. I thought she was goin' too far. She got mad, told me I'd," he stopped suddenly, clearly remembering the fight. "She said she was done tryin' to keep the peace," he said, redirecting. "Left it to me."

"And you sent the card," Jenny supplied – there was obvious proof of that.

He nodded.

"And the one with the number?" she prompted.

"Figured you didn't get that one."

"It's a long story," Jenny said dryly. "We were moving to D.C. then, and your stuff was still going to – Melly's," she admitted.

Gibbs grit his teeth – there it was again, evidence of her lack of true desire to keep him connected. Moving, without telling him; never bothering to check and keep up, to have mail forwarded – no effort for Gibbs, but plenty of effort to make sure Natalie called Jackson and Jasper. It made him irate for a moment, but he quelled the anger.

He didn't feel like he should have to prove himself to her, but he'd do it if it meant better years to come for him and Natalie. He'd swallow his pride and his anger and his resentment, and maybe by the end of this car ride, she'd realize he was sincere.

He moved his shoulders a little, shaking the tension out of them.

"Kelly – turned two, started talkin'," he said hoarsely. He swallowed unsteadily. "Got me thinkin' about Natalie. That's – how old she was, when you left," he reminded Jenny – unnecessarily. "Still figured you'd tell me to go to hell, since I was in Europe," he shook his head heavily. "Havin' Kelly didn't make me stop missin' her," he said quietly. "Made it more obvious that I wasn't around Natalie."

Jenny nodded – this was all out of her element; she only had one child. She parted her lips, trying to understand – she'd never had siblings, either, or step or half siblings – she thought there was something fundamental she probably couldn't relate to, about having more than one kid, about what it was like.

"What was her full name?" Jenny asked gently. She'd forgotten - she knew Jackson must have told her, though.

"Kelly Ann," Gibbs answered. He was quiet a moment. "Shannon named her after Princess Grace," he said bitterly.

Jenny closed her eyes, compressing her lips – Grace Kelly, who'd infamously died in a car accident; thinking of that gave way to the even more infamous death of Princess Diana in Paris, not even a year, if Jenny remembered correctly, before Gibbs' wife and daughter would have been killed.

Gibbs remembered the death of Princess Diana clearly; Shannon had been so upset; she'd cried for the people's princess, and embassy activity had been chaotic for weeks. She'd died the same way less than a year later. The whole world hadn't mourned for Shannon and Kelly, though to Gibbs they were the whole world.

"What really happened?" Jenny ventured delicately.

He shook his head a couple of times.

"I know it's classified," she said bravely. "But – "

"CIA operation gone sour," Gibbs said harshly – the tone didn't bother her, though; she felt it was a defense mechanism, to keep him steady, alert.

She watched his face carefully, waiting.

"Shannon was targeted by a Russian woman who was screwed in the op," he said roughly. "NCIS was evacuating them for witness protection," he said. He cleared his throat heavily. "The – Russian – drove her motorcycle into their car on the way to the airport. Killed the agent driving them."

He left it unspoken that Shannon and Kelly had died, too. Jenny caught her lip.

"The medics said Bugsy tried to stop Kelly's bleeding," he said, almost as if he wasn't really there.

She sat forward slightly, and then she swallowed hard.

"Pull over, Jethro," she requested hoarsely.

He turned slightly, defensive – wary – and she sharpened her eyes.

"Pull over."

To her surprise, he did so; he shoved the car into park on the side of the winding road, and he lowered his hands resting them awkwardly in his lap. She leaned forward, unbuckling, looking at him sincerely.

"Jethro," she said quietly, blinking heavily. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I _know_ it doesn't help. I am so sorry," she repeated.

Bugsy got up in the back, and wagged her tail, peering through the window. She sat down, watching, curious.

Gibbs finally looked over at her. His face was unreadable, his eyes covered with shadows. His jaw tightened slightly.

"She was three-and-a-half," he said finally, hoarsely. "Only had her for a year longer than I had Natalie."

Jenny pursed her lips – she felt an unreasonable sense of guilt, a ridiculous and almost arrogant feeling that if she'd never left him at all, this wouldn't have happened, that by some narcissistic law of fate, this was her fault. She didn't say it – the logical part of her knew it was absurd – but she wanted to reach out and touch him, hug him, kiss his forehead – try to make it better, like she had been able to when they were young.

In absence of being able to do any of that, she said:

"Want me to drive the rest of the way?"

He looked down at the console.

"S'a stick," he said huskily, clearing his throat. He kept his face down for a minute.

"I can drive a stick now," Jenny told him.

He was still a moment, and then he nodded, and got out of the car without a word. She reached out and gave Bugsy an affectionate rub on the head as she walked around the truck. They switched places, and after a moment of blush-inducing struggle, she proved herself, and got the old, stubborn truck going – and pulled back onto the road, following the signs. She took a deep breath, and tossed her hair back.

She feared they were about to fall back into that eerie, suffocating silence, when he said, very gruffly, and very unexpectedly:

"Heard about your old man." He leaned forward and rubbed his knee hard, wincing. "What happened to 'im?"

Startled, she pursed her lips.

"You - ? Ah, their funeral," she said, almost to herself. "Jackson."

But –

"No," he corrected, surprising her again. "Shannon told me. Dad told her."

Jenny wrinkled her nose a little. She sighed, and then shrugged.

"He…took on a local gang, and he let his guard down," she said simply. "He was trying to help this young kid mixed up in it. And," she let the sentence hang for a moment, "the kid shot him, twice." She swallowed hard, and then laughed hoarsely. "But that wasn't what killed him. He had a massive heart attack on the operating table."

Gibbs sat up a little, and grinned in spite of himself, in spite of what he'd just had to discuss – to relive.

"Sounds like the Chief," he remarked good-naturedly.

"Yeah," Jenny agreed weakly. She compressed her lips tightly. "We were getting along," she admitted shakily. "He came to California for my college graduation…he started saying he was proud of me," she said. Her voice cracked – losing her father still hurt, several years later; it hurt not so much because he was gone, but because of how much time they'd lost being estranged, and how well things had been going when he was killed so suddenly.

She cleared her throat, and blinked away stinging tears.

"Jackson told your wife?" she asked, trying to make things light – she felt awkward, though; his wife was dead – maybe she should get on to another subject.

Maybe they should go back to fighting; this felt too intimately like bonding.

"She kept up with 'im,' Gibbs said grudgingly. "You did," he added, narrowing his eyes. "The only people who weren't talkin' were me and you," he griped suddenly, his brow furrowing in a scowl.

Jenny gave a hoarse, nervous laugh, biting her lip – better to laugh than burst into tears, but _God_ , it seemed like he was right. She talked to Jackson, and she talked to Jasper; they both talked to Natalie. Jackson talked to Shannon, Shannon talked to Gibbs – and hell, even in a roundabout way, Shannon talked to Jenny and Natalie – through her cards, her subtle attempts to welcome.

It was so – _stupid_.

"This is the longest we've been alone together since you went to boot camp," she said hoarsely, laughing in disbelief.

"Nah," he said dryly, "since before Natalie was born."

She arched her brows. He shrugged.

"After she was born, she was always with us."

After a moment, Jenny nodded.

"Yeah," she agreed.

They both fell silent, and Gibbs turned and looked to see if the dog was still lying down – he expected she was ; no matter how long they were, car rides put Bugsy to sleep about as quickly as they did babies. After a moment, Jenny ventured in a small voice:

"You know we did…grow apart a little, after her," she said. "Even when we were together. It wasn't the same. That relationship…it wasn't ready for the strain of a baby."

Hesitating, she glanced over at him.

"Please tell me you might understand that…now," she tried earnestly – that would be the first step to him maybe, maybe understanding why she'd gone stir crazy and had to run; it just hadn't been certain, hadn't been black and white back then.

He didn't answer her though, and she felt lost, suddenly, frustrated – she thought they were making progress. She took a deep breath, and lifted one hand, pointing.

"Look," she bid dully.

He did, and it was impossible to miss: the old, wooden STILLWATER CITY LIMITS sign. The paint was chipped, and it was full of bullet holes – they all used to steal someone's shot gun and try to hit empty beer can targets. Gibbs had been good at it, until Jackson had caught him nicking the Winchester. He'd _whipped_ him with it, and Gibbs didn't see target practice again until he was the Corps' star scout sniper.

But in the shame of not having a gun to haul around with the other boys, he'd found Jenny.

"I don't want to be here," Jenny said under her breath. She shook her head. " _Ooh_ , I hate it. She knows that."

She grit her teeth.

"When we came for the funeral, she said it was beautiful. Like a little village from _Lord of the Rings,_ " Jenny mused quietly. "The only way I could describe how it made me feel was to compare it to Luke Skywalker trying to escape his Uncle's farm," she said dryly. "But I called the planet by the wrong name and she blew me off," she snorted.

When Gibbs said nothing, she glanced over.

" _Star Wars_ ," she said.

Extremely seriously, he said:

" _Everyone_ knows who Luke Skywalker is, Jen."

She made a face and turned to the road, brows up.

"She likes that kind of stuff?" Gibbs ventured.

"Yes," Jenny said quietly. " _Star Wars_ , _Lord of the Rings, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter_ – the fourth one comes out in July," she said solemnly. She smirked a little. "If you bond with her over _Star Wars_ just – don't mention the most recent one."

Gibbs turned his head slightly.

"You gonna let me be bondin' with her?" he asked.

There was something both neutral and anticipatory about his tone. As if he didn't want it to seem like his hopes would be dashed if she said no, but the underlying fact was – that was exactly what would happen. The difference being that in the past, he'd been too stubborn, or too prideful, or to wary, to keep fighting – but now he'd make sure it was a knock-down drag out, because he wasn't going to stand for it anymore.

It would just be better for everyone if he had her support – at the very _least_ , her grudging blessing.

"I don't know, Jethro," she said.

Clenching his teeth, he stared straight ahead.

She made an instinctive turn down the road that would take them through the main Stillwater drive, and she took a quiet, shaky breath.

"It's not even just you, or how I feel about your state of mind," she said softly. "It's her – behavior, and our relationship, maybe that needs work first. She can't think this sort of thing works; that she'll get her way if she acts out like this."

He didn't answer her. She steeled herself as she shifted lanes, and then slowly pulled down the main road, easing off the gas. They rolled past the fresh food market, the farm supply place – little boutiques, the book store, a pet store, the eye doctor – past Melissa Fielding's dress shop, and then Deborah Henry's, and Jenny felt assaulted by the mere images.

It had been surreal, and damaging, when she was back here for her father's funeral – but to be back here, now, with Gibbs, chasing after her daughter – ooh, she could hear the whispers, and she hated it – she _hated_ it.

Two children chased each other across the street up ahead; a parked Sheriff shouted at them lazily, and then squinted with surprise at the old red truck just as Jenny turned it slightly, and parked it on the street outside of the old General Store.

"Is that the same Sheriff who chased you, me, and Alison down into the creek on Halloween that one year?" she asked dryly.

"Yep," Gibbs said dully.

Things in Stillwater never really changed.

Jenny closed her eyes.

"I can't breathe here," she murmured, before wrenching her seatbelt off, and getting out of the car.

She shoved the keys – his keys – instinctively into her pocket; she checked her beeper, and pulled her hair back – and she swore to God, she heard that old Sheriff – he'd known her father, after all – call inside a store to someone.

" _Loo—ookee heeere! Livin' legends!"_

Gibbs turned his back to it, ignoring it.

"Hell's gonna break loose," he said, his face expressionless. "They don't have to be good this time," he growled. "It's not a funeral."

It was an astute observation. The townies were free to gawk like they were zoo exhibits; there was no need, this time, to keep eyes down-cast, keep talk behind tightly closed little rural doors, and be respectful. Hell – Natalie had been here longer than twelve hours, she'd probably already been questioned by the Elders – the Elders being every Church lady now smitten with Betsy Carmichael – or some archaic nonsense.

Gibbs whistled sharply, and let the truck gate down so Bugsy could hop down. She darted right over to some flowers in the front of the store, eagerly and curiously exploring. Gibbs leaned against the truck as Jenny came around, her arms folded.

"What time is it?" he asked, disoriented, squinting in the cool sun.

"Ten after ten," she said mechanically, stalling.

Gibbs looked at the store with revulsion; the last time he'd been here, he'd been in his dress blues, anticipating a flight back to Paris – hardly aware that soon his Marine career would be over, and he'd be struggling to keep himself alive in a world that had become so dark to him.

He narrowed his eyes, thinking of the book Natalie had left him, that sat in the glove compartment along with the letter she'd left her mother. His lips turned up slightly, and then compressed in a stiff line; he thought about his mother.

"She wanted this," he said, abruptly.

Jenny blinked, turning her head up.

"Natalie," he said. "She wanted this," he gestured between them, and then at the truck.

"She's extremely cunning," Jenny said fondly, after a moment of consideration – her being here, after an actual, bona-fide, road trip with Jethro, did seem orchestrated; did seem like part of a plan – and for once it was out of her control – it was not Jenny's scheme, Jenny's grand idea.

It was Natalie's turn.

"It might work," Jenny said, almost to herself.

Gibbs turned, looking at her closely a moment.

"You sound like your father sometimes," he said.

Startled, confused, she parted her lips. Before she could ask, he nodded sharply.

"When you talk about her behavior," he said. "She's a kid. She made some emotional decisions," he asserted out coolly. "She wants to be mature but she doesn't think she's bein' treated fairly," he said pointedly. He let that sit for a moment. "Your father never let you forget you made a mistake, Jen. He never forgave you."

She swallowed hard – she thought he had forgiven her, at the end; but as far as Gibbs knew, he hadn't – and he was making a hard-hitting point; those years when she'd been tarnished in her father's eyes had been worse than she could ever imagine, and it only got worse when she tried to do the right thing for her, despite her poor choices, and even then he wouldn't bend.

"I made a big mistake, Jethro," she said shakily.

He nodded.

"So did I," he agreed.

He gestured at the store.

"She didn't make our mistake," he said seriously. "What she did, runnin' off," he reasoned, "it's not as big."

Jenny's brow furrowed. She looked towards the store.

"'M not gonna let you use me to discipline her," Gibbs said flatly. "You can find a way to make her understand she can't scare you or disrespect you," he said, taking a deep breath, "without cuttin' me out."

She said nothing, her eyes shaded. She turned, and started to walk towards the path that would lead to the Gibbs' house – since no one had come out of the store upon her arrival, she assumed they were out back. Gibbs' words did something to her – they hurt her in a way, but it was eye-opening, and maybe she needed it – but she also needed to see Natalie.

Walking beside her, he decided to make his intentions clear.

"You're not gettin' rid of me this time, Jen."

She smiled a little heavily.

"That sounds like a threat," she remarked mildly.

He didn't deny it – he'd never hurt her, but once he found the resources, if Natalie wanted it – if Natalie initiated it, if Natalie convincingly wanted him in her life, he'd take her to court the way he should have done years ago – he never should have let himself not be in this child's life, regardless of how hard Jenny made it.

Bugsy sniffed around the house, taking her time, and near the tree in the back where an old birdhouse still hung, Jenny stopped in her tracks. She saw her, in the old barn, peering into the hood of the dodge charger Gibbs had been building – and she froze.

Gibbs stopped a foot behind her, folding his arms – taken aback to see his daughter tinkering with the engine of his old pride and joy; unsure how he felt about being here with Jenny, with Natalie – and with his father there to witness it all.

Jenny felt a surge of anger suddenly, of frustration at her errant child; the odd cocoon that had seemed to surround her and Gibbs during the road trip dissolved, and she felt again the concurrent panic and rage that had consumed her when she couldn't find Natalie on Friday evening.

She cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted, icily, in her best Mom tone, at the top of her lungs:

"NATALIE _WINTER_ GIBBS."

In the yard next to the Gibbs' property, two adults were staring – no doubt someone who had known Jenny or Gibbs in high school – she stood in the yard where Natalie had learned to walk, shouting at her daughter, surrounded by Stillwater and everything it stood for – daunted by what it meant; that for the first time in years, all three of them were here – together.

* * *

At no point had Jenny ever considered her life to resemble a sitcom; since it was decidedly not a sitcom – definitely not anything as wholesome as the _Full House_ or _Married, with Children_ staples of the nineties – she did not expect Natalie to look at her thoughtfully for a moment and then _take off running._

As it turned out, that's exactly what her almost-fifteen-year-old daughter did – she turned on her heel, and she darted away, with a look on her face that was akin to The Road Runner hoodwinking Wile E. Coyote, leaving her grandfather looking slightly startled, and her mother frozen, unsure of what to do.

Completely unhelpfully, Gibbs laughed. Jenny swung her hand back and slapped him in the chest. He pointed.

"Well, go after her," he suggested, pushing her hand away from him.

Jenny started forward, stopped, and turned around.

"I can't go running after her!" she hissed.

"Why not?" Gibbs goaded, smirking. "You just chased her across a state."

"Because," she nearly shouted, glancing around and then lowering her voice, " _because_ I am not going to be some white trash boondock spectacle – I'm not putting on another show for these – vultures!"

"All you been through, and you still give a damn what these townies think of you?" Gibbs asked sharply; there was something irritated about his face, and she bristled, folding her arms tensely – presumably, Natalie knew Jenny would hesitate to actually chase her down – it's not like she'd tackle her if she caught her, anyway, and she wasn't about to be provoked into a shouting match in the middle of a Stillwater street – but something about Gibbs' tone –

"I don't particularly want to give them more fodder for gossip about how disgraceful I am," she said nastily.

"That was always part of your problem, Jen," he fired back, eyes darkening suddenly. "You cared more about what they thought than what the people who mattered thought."

She stepped back a little – she didn't know he thought about it that way, or viewed it that way, and she wasn't sure she liked the accusation. She grit her teeth, her face darkening. She didn't like being accused of leaving just because she wasn't viewed as such a star, promising student anymore; but she couldn't give him a comeback because she couldn't deny that she'd liked how in California, people thought she was impressive for overcoming obstacles – while in Stillwater, she was just a cautionary tale for good Christian kids.

While they argued, Jackson approached, hands in his pockets. He waited until they both turned to look at him, Gibbs with a stiff, unreadable expression, and Jenny with frustration and exasperation, and after a moment, he grinned a little, and nodded as if tipping his hat blithely.

"Mornin'," he greeted slyly. He lifted his shoulders. "Beautiful day for the chickens to come home to roost," he said conversationally.

Jenny gave him a baleful look; Gibbs appeared to just blatantly ignore him. He lifted his chin, and peered around the land – the same old place it had been when he was growing up, and when Natalie was a baby; not much changed, the hood of his once prized car open and waiting for attention, the birdhouse in the tree.

Natalie had taken her first steps in this yard; he and Jenny had locked themselves in that shed for tryst – once upon a time.

Jenny turned almost in a complete circle, feeling lost – should she run in the same direction? Natalie had probably twisted and turned a couple of times now, wherever she was going; and despite how annoyed Jenny was that she had actually sprinted off, a small part of her was thinking – _yeah, you_ better _run._

Jenny threw her hands up, and put them on her hips.

" _Seriously_?" she snapped, incredulous. "She – she rabbits on me?" she demanded. "It's not enough that she skipped school and high-tailed it across state _lines_?"

"I don't think she means it real cruel," Jackson said neutrally.

Jenny held up a hand a little aggressively.

"I really could have done without you encouraging her," she snapped dangerously.

Jackson held up his hands a little, saying nothing, smiling good-naturedly. Jenny bit down on her lip and looked between them, her eyes lingering on Gibbs.

"You gonna go after her?" Gibbs asked.

It made Jenny slightly uncomfortable that he hadn't said a word to his father, and more uncomfortable that she'd had a relatively easy and cordial relationship with Jackson all these years while his son had just grown farther and farther away from him.

Jenny pushed her hair back.

"Regardless of what you think it's about, Jethro," she began nastily, "I _don't_ want to air our issues all over this godforsaken town," she growled. "Maybe it's about my image, but maybe," she said testily, "it's also about keeping family business in the family. I'm not going to open her up to anymore whispering, and judgment, than she already gets from these rubberneckers."

Gibbs' face showed a slight amount of contrition at her words, and he inclined his head. Jenny put her hands on her hips again, balling them into fists. Her knuckles cracked as she pressed them against her hipbones tensely. She grit her teeth angrily and narrowed her eyes, thinking.

"Why don't the two of you come in and have some coffee," Jackson began neutrally.

"No," Jenny said sharply, holding up her hands and shaking her head. "No, this is not going to be drawn out any longer."

"You just said you aren't gonna chase her all over, makin' a spectacle," Gibbs pointed out, roughly about the same time his father said:

"I think she wants some space to let you calm down – "

Jenny gave Jackson a seething look.

"I let you hang up on me last night," she snapped. "I left her alone."

"You drove up here," Jackson pointed out mildly.

"This is going to end," Jenny said, ignoring him – as far as she was concerned, Natalie had her fun, she'd cavorted around on a bus alone for hours, and a train, she'd skipped around Stillwater all morning – she'd been given _time_ ; now she was going to get the confrontation she presumably wanted.

Biting her lip, she turned to Gibbs.

"I won't chase her," she said. "Natalie doesn't want to play hide and seek," she added, eyes intent. "She's gone somewhere specific."

"S'not like she knows her way around here, Jen," Gibbs snorted derisively.

"She was here for Dad's funeral," Jenny said testily. "And her memory is damn near eidetic."

Gibbs didn't remark for a moment, peering warily at Jenny. He spared a look for his father, who was looking at him with some intensity; after a moment, Gibbs decided he preferred looking at Jenny. She sighed, pushed her hand through her hair, and bit her lip, shaking her head.

"She'd go back where it started," she decided finally, slowly coming to a confident conclusion.

She looked at Gibbs seriously, and he realized he was probably supposed to clue into what that meant. His brow furrowed slightly, and he folded his arms, eyeing her a moment. He cleared his throat.

"The hayloft?" he asked gruffly, arching one eyebrow.

Jenny's lips parted slightly and she – she blushed, dark pink. She glared at him, scandalized, and then very slowly, and pointedly, shook her head.

"No, _Jethro_ ," she said coolly, "not the damn _hayloft_ ," she corrected through gritted teeth. "The Stillwater Bridge," she went on. She paused a moment. "I took her down there after my father's funeral," she murmured.

Gibbs tightened his jaw – the place they'd use to skip stones in the summer, escape to in order to take a refreshing dip in the creek in the hot day of late July and early August. The place they'd sat when they found out she was pregnant and broke the jewelry box her father had given her.

In the moment it took him to reflect on that, there was a significant silence, and that silence was broken when Jackson Gibbs thrust his palm directly into the back of his son's head – and in a flash, Gibbs felt like he was sitting back at the kitchen table in the store the moment he told his father about the problem.

Scowling, he turned towards his father menacingly.

"You knocked her up in a hayloft – in that old Crenshaw barn?" Jackson groused, glaring at him – he pinpointed the place easily; it was the only place Gibbs had spent all his time to earn a little extra cash, before supporting a family became his job.

Jenny put her head in her hands a moment, shaking it tensely.

"That ain't no way to treat a lady," griped Jackson. "If I'd've known what you were up to – "

"What the hell d'you think I was doin', writin' poetry?" Gibbs retorted – as if it took a rocket scientist to figure out what two small town high school sweethearts were doing hanging out in a barn all the time.

"In a hayloft – goddamn unoriginal – idiots, the both of you," growled Jackson, shaking his head.

"I really can't believe this is happening," Jenny said flatly, lifting her head.

Jackson held up his hands.

"I'll leave you all to it," he said dryly. He smacked his hands together, as if washing them, dusting the responsibility off himself. "You all come on up to the house when you've got your issues straight – and you," he said sharply, pointing menacingly at Gibbs, " _go visit your in-laws._ "

Jackson gave Gibbs a good, hard look before he left them standing there – he'd run into Mack Fielding a couple of weeks ago, and Mack had asked after Leroy. That's how Jackson knew they hadn't heard from him since the funeral, either –and Jackson knew, even if Leroy hadn't always gotten on with Joanne Fielding, those two were the only people who could come close to understanding what he lost.

Gibbs looked down at his feet, and after a moment, Jenny turned on her heel. He looked up, squinting in the November sun, and then he started after her.

"I'll take care of this, Jethro," she warned, turning slightly, giving him a warning look over her shoulder.

He didn't say anything; he caught up next to her. She sighed, frustrated.

"You being there is only going to exacerbate things!"

He shrugged.

"I don't care, Jen," he said flatly.

He wanted Natalie to see that he came, too. He wanted her to know that he cared about what she wanted, and he would be willing to fight Jenny every step of the way – but in the car, and even now as she walked beside him, he wondered if he didn't sense her resolve breaking; regardless of what she said, after this – how could she realistically keep him from Natalie, and vice versa?

She seemed to give in to that. She didn't protest again.

Walking down the hill of some property to a wooded path, they caught the attention of Deborah Henry.

"I'll be – I thought that was you two – was that your little Natalie I saw running around this morning?" she called, though Jenny paused only a second to give a tight, hardly polite wave. "I saw that mess of black hair – always thought she'd be a redhead – "

"Yes," Jenny called back, irritated at the interruption, and falsely cheery, "well, she dyed it after she joined the Satanic Temple, and I've brought her back to baptize her in the creek," she said blithely.

Jenny strode along, as if she'd said nothing, leaving Deborah looking a bit startled, and Gibbs staring at her in mild amusement.

"Thought you didn't want more gossip," he said dryly.

Through gritted teeth, she growled:

"Fuck 'em."

She fell silent, her pace determined. After a moment, she said:

"What did Jackson mean, your in-laws?" she asked. She paused a moment – it had caught her off guard, and then suddenly something clicked, and she stopped a moment, taken aback. "Shannon – _Fielding_? You married Melissa Fielding's niece?" she asked.

She didn't know why it had never occurred to her before. Why else would he have buried them in Stillwater? But – Shannon Fielding had been a year behind Jenny in high school, once she'd transferred – she'd essentially been a Stillwater girl, but from a town over – and Jenny suddenly didn't know how she felt about this.

She started walking again, reaching up to push her hair back. After a long silence, Gibbs said:

"No one in her family was happy about it."

Jenny looked over her shoulder at him hesitantly.

"They have something against Marines?" she asked.

"No," he said bluntly. "Deadbeat dads," he said sarcastically.

Jenny bit her lip, and found the path she was looking for, starting to follow it to the bridge, and the creek it reached over. She slid her hands into her back pockets, walking the way from memory.

"Did you tell them that wasn't it?" she ventured.

"Wasn't their business," he said sharply.

Jenny shook her head a little.

"Shannon Fielding," she murmured, almost to herself. "You can take the boy out of Stillwater," she began, letting the sentence hang.

She had to admit though, it made a little more sense that Gibbs' wife had determinedly tried too hard to keep the lines of communication open, why she was so genuine – as Jackson had once said – about her openness. There was something about Stillwater, even if you hated it, even if you ran from it, that was in your blood forever; people who had escaped, but knew what it was like, stuck together.

She wondered if Shannon had ever felt like a replacement. She wondered if she'd been right about Gibbs all along, that what he'd really always wanted was a homegrown girl more like his mother – but she stopped her thoughts there; she didn't know Shannon, and Shannon couldn't be too identical to Ann if she'd traveled the world with Gibbs.

"You don't keep in touch with her parents?" Jenny asked after a while.

Gibbs shook his head curtly. He was quiet, and then, falling into step next to her as the path widened, and the bridge was in sight, he looked ahead, his chin pointed, his face blank. He didn't confide in Jenny the reason why – that in a fit of grief, Joanne Fielding had accused him of putting her daughter in danger, of holding responsibility for Shannon and Kelly's death, and even if she hadn't meant it, it was enough to ensure he never faced that accusation again.

He couldn't bear it; he'd already blamed himself enough.

Jenny sighed, focusing ahead. As the old, rusted red of the bridge drew closer, and she stood near it, she turned, and folded her arms, waiting until Gibbs came to stand beside her. Down the rocky bank, standing where she'd stood just a few years ago, was Natalie – a mere three feet away from where Jenny had sat, distraught, in the early months of nineteen eighty-four.

She watched her for a moment, watched the sun glittering off her black hair – she was going to be tall, probably closer to Gibbs' height than her mother's. Her posture was excellent, something Jenny had nothing to do with – it was a blessed, natural poise.

So much about Natalie seemed to just be naturally her own, inherent, instinctive, that Jenny constantly doubted if her skills as a mother had anything to do with it – if she was a good mother at all. She swallowed hard, her voice caught in her throat. When she didn't say anything, Gibbs startled her by calling out.

"Hey, kid," he said gruffly, arching a brow.

She turned quickly, black hair flying.

"You got our attention," he said smoothly.

Charm; Jethro had always had charm.

Natalie looked at them, and took a nimble step back.

Irritated, relieved, guilty, and incensed, Jenny navigated the rocks down to her, standing close to her among the smaller ones near the creek bank – the infamous bridge looming in the distance. Behind her, Gibbs followed, and he found a place to sit on the large rock he'd once sat on fourteen years ago. Jenny stood with her arms folded; he looked intently at this daughter her barely knew – and Natalie's lips turned up in an uncertain smile.

"Well now I – now that I have it," she said bravely, "I don't know what I want to do with it," she admitted, almost sheepishly.

Jenny gave her a split second of peace.

"What the hell were you thinking, Natalie?" she demanded icily.

Natalie swallowed, her eyes widening a little – nervous, clearly; chastised.

"Mom, I felt backed into a corner – "

"Do you have any idea how _paralyzing_ it was for me to not know where you were?" Jenny interrupted harshly. "Do you know how it felt calling people, desperate to know if you were at their house, only to get bewildered answers – I work at a federal agency, I know what kind of crimes are perpetrated on young girls – I was out of my mind – "

"I'm okay, Mom," Natalie said softly, her eyes big.

Jenny blinked hard, forcing back tears.

"I can see that," she said hoarsely, "and I'm relieved – I'm delighted that you're safe, and you got here in one piece, and no one hurt you – because I doubt you'd be standing there as smug, and as proud, of this latest asinine and irresponsible stunt."

Natalie swallowed.

"It _wasn't_ irresponsible," she fired back. "Grandpa Jack is family – and I take public transport alone all the time. I knew where I was going, I made sure I left enough information to let you – "

"Bullshit, Natalie," spat Jenny. "Your little jigsaw puzzle attempt to bring your father and I together – "

"Obviously worked," Natalie said under her breath, eyeing Gibbs.

"– is a _glaring_ example of how _immature_ you've been acting lately – "

"I told you, I felt backed into a corner!" shouted Natalie, raising her voice aggressively over Jenny's. Her eyes flashed and she licked her lips, her face paling a little – with apprehension, perhaps, or just plain anger.

"I don't _want_ to disobey you, Mom, I don't _want_ to disrespect you!" she cried. "I don't want to _fight_!" she shouted. "But you – you essentially admitted to me that he never really did anything wrong, and you made it hard for him to see me, and then you turn around and tell me I still can't have a relationship with my father? It doesn't make any sense!"

Natalie licked her lips, her eyes filling with tears.

"I'm not acting out to spite _you_!" she said emphatically. "I don't know what else to do. I don't want him," she said, pushing her hand at Gibbs, turning towards him, "to think I have no interest! If he – if he doesn't want to be around me," she said shakily, talking to him now, "if you can't be around me because of Kelly, or if you don't have any interest in me, that's fine – but I want it to come from you," she said seriously, her voice cracking. "You," she repeated, "not her," she pointed at Jenny, "because from what I can tell, she's been speaking for you for years and – by that I mean – I don't know you, or anything about you, and I want to."

She broke off a moment, taking a heavy, deep breath – she was in it now, and she hadn't expected to be able to get it all out the moment she saw them – she'd been hoping they'd come together, and at least that much had worked for her.

Natalie's eyes flashed, still brimming with tears.

"I want you to have your turn to speak for yourself," she said, "and I'm glad you're here because I think it means you didn't let her turn you away again," she managed. She stepped forward. "Is that why?" she demanded. "Do you – want me around?"

Gibbs, without looking at Jenny, folded his arms, unprepared for the onslaught of her emotion, but determined not to let this chance slip through his fingers, determined not to say or do the wrong thing. He nodded as firmly as he could, meeting her eyes.

"Always wanted to be around, Natalie," he said, forcing the words out as sincerely and steadily as possible. He sat forward just a little. "All this stuff…wasn't 'cause of you," he said, "wasn't your fault," he said huskily.

"I know that," she said, pointing to her chest. "I am a very smart person – I'm book smart, and I'm well-adjusted, an emotionally astute," she said – it was so composed and self-aware, that Gibbs smiled a little, until she looked between them both, her face dark. "I know it wasn't my fault. It was your fault," she said, pointing harshly at Jenny, "for doing what you did. And it was your fault," she said unexpectedly, turning her finger on Gibbs, "for letting her get away with it."

Gibbs didn't say anything to defend himself; Jenny's breath caught in her throat – so Natalie wasn't just angry at her; maybe some of what she had said had gotten through, about it not always just being solely selfish act on Jenny's part.

Natalie wiped at her eyes, her lips trembling.

"I had so much fun on that day on the beach, when I was little," she said to her father. "When you played with me in the ocean? I had _so_ much fun – and I never saw you again. And I know she didn't bring me to see you a couple years later," she added, throwing a nasty look at Jenny, "and I know she didn't tell you we moved and – I know there was stuff, but it wasn't even you signing my cards anymore, and you should have known that whatever my Mom did, it was never my fault!"

Natalie sucked in her breath again, plowing on.

"You could have tried harder," she said weakly, turning on her mother suddenly. "You could have called Grandpa Jack and made him tell me you wanted to see me – "

"Natalie," Jenny broke in suddenly, shaking her head. "Natalie, Jackson knows I'd have put a stop to that – Bug, listen, I did make it hard on him," she said – something about Gibbs sitting there, taking it, made her feel so guilty, and so ashamed, that she had to jump in.

Natalie whirled on her.

"I still don't understand why you made it so hard on him – I don't care if you wanted a clean break, I don't care what was easy, he's my father, and I shouldn't have had to break from him – "

"She had a point, after Desert Storm," Gibbs broke in suddenly, not looking at Jenny – pointedly not looking at Jenny. "I got…off track. I got bitter, Natalie," he said, swallowing. "I let – bein' pissed at her get in the way of you."

Natalie, silenced for a moment, gave a small, hoarse laugh, and pushed her hair back.

"You just – _you just defended each other_!" she cried weakly.

She licked her lips, her eyes red, her face pale, her lashes glittering heavily. Bright, intelligent blue eyes went from one parent to the other, begging, pleading.

"Please tell me you got something hashed out on that road trip, because if I leave Stillwater without you both I'll – I'll _– I will pierce my nose_."

Jenny covered her mouth, her jaw aching – even at the height of drama, chaos, and emotional thunderstorms, the worst thing Natalie could think of to do was stick a benign hole in her body. It was a testament to how even-natured and intelligent she was, and it triggered something fundamental in Jenny, a final desire to confess her sins and see if it would clear the air.

"Natalie," she began, her voice cracking, "when I left – the decisions I made when I was nineteen – it wasn't about me not loving him, or me not wanting you to see him, or him doing _anything_ bad; it wasn't about – "

"What was it about, Mom?" Natalie asked, turning her palms up.

"It was about me!" Jenny cried, cringing at her own words – she admitted it raw, honest, and felt as much relief as she did dread over finally saying it. "It was about my life, and what I wanted, and what made me happy – me, me, _me_ – and that's why teenagers should never have children, Natalie, because no matter how hard they try, they just aren't selfless enough yet!"

Shaking, Jenny paused; she licked her lips, and took a deep breath.

"It was about me and what I wanted and how I thought my life should be," she went on, her chest aching. "I – I took care of you, Nat, I love you with everything I have, and I put your first as best as I could from that moment on – but leaving your father, going to California, that was for me. That was because I hated Stillwater, and Gibbs was doing what he loved in the Marines, and I was going to do what I wanted. It was me still not accepting that I had a baby, and my life was never going to be the same again – for a while there, Nat? Me making sure you were not only safe but also smart and better was _because I wanted to look good_ ," she said hoarsely, her stomach lurching. "I almost financially ruined us, several times, because I wanted to show you off – new things, owning my own condo, sending you to special camps and programs – I wanted to show you off instead of just love you and be happy I had you. I was a child. I was an immature little girl who wanted it all and never, ever should have understand that I should have been coming _last._ That no matter how I felt, it was important for you to know your father, and see him, because I loved – I loved my father – "

She broke off, covering her face a moment. She gave a quiet sob, tried to compose herself a little, lowered her hand, and moved on.

"I loved my father, and I know how awful it was when our relationship was broken. And I shouldn't have done this to you – but back then, at least understand, that I was so, so, so in love with your father," she said huskily, "I was so scared it was all going to end so miserably if I married him, and when I did what I did, and I knew he wouldn't agree, or like it, and he hated me, I didn't want to be around him because it was too hard for me – and finding out he was able to move on, to marry someone, that hit me hard," she admitted, carefully looking away from Gibbs, "because I had this ridiculous notion that he'd never stop loving me, either, that I'd just put us on pause."

Jenny stepped forward a little, shaking her head.

"I meant what I said when I told you that in time, as you got older, and Jethro dropped the ball after Desert Storm, I felt I was doing the right thing – and it was to protect you. But at first—what put him, and what put me, in this position, is that I was only thinking about myself. Don't blame yourself – and don't blame him too much. I just needed," Jenny said, "to grow up. It's very strange, the way I matured. The way I saw things…I think I was right to leave Stillwater, and I think – I think I would do it again, in a heartbeat, but Natalie I know I shouldn't have kept your Dad away – "

"But why did you?" Natalie asked shakily, attention rapt. "Your parents were divorced – you clearly loved them both and felt you had a good relationship with them, if you were willing to go live with the absentee one – or even, when you – when you grew up, why didn't you just reach out?" Natalie asked, licking her lips. "Mom, I'm just…trying to understand. I have a great life. I love you – but it seems so simple – that you should have just gotten over it, for me – "

"It is that simple, Bug," Jenny said, reaching out to take her shoulder. "In hindsight, I can see that. With fourteen years of motherhood under my belt, I can see that. But at nineteen, when my whole life was a whirlwind of love I could barely comprehend, and all these other things, and a deep, suffocating fear that I was missing out on things or failing miserably at everything, I just didn't want to deal with my feelings," she said. "I'd had a baby, I'd done all these things but … I'd never broken up with a boyfriend before. And I wasn't old enough to – deal with it the way people with children deal with break ups."

She took a deep breath.

"By the time I mellowed out, and started – questioning myself - I was in too deep. And it's hard to admit you're wrong, Natalie. It's a blow to the pride. I didn't want you to hate me. God, I was so afraid you'd hate me."

Natalie's face flushed, and she wrapped her arms around herself.

"I couldn't ever hate you," she said quietly, pleasingly. "I never…wanted for anything because of you – you sent me to the best schools, you made me feel smart, safe – I couldn't ever hate you, Mom," she said, her voice cracking, "but I really wish it hadn't been like this because – if he'd just been around all along – we never would have fought at all, and I hate fighting with you."

Jenny licked her lips.

"I wanted so badly to be a good mother," she said hoarsely, "it keeps me up at night, worrying if you're okay, if you're going to think you had a good upbringing – wondering if I ever did anything right."

"Mom," Natalie said, her eyes intent, sincere. " _You're doing so good_."

Jenny put her head in her hands, overwhelmed, and started to cry.

Helpless, and somewhat contrite she'd brought her mother to tears this badly; Natalie reached out hesitantly, and then drew her hands back. She covered her mouth, and then looked at her father desperately – silently asking for help.

Gibbs got up stiffly, rubbing one of his knees. He came closer and smiled at Natalie a little sympathetically.

"She cried like that last time we were here, too," he said gruffly, trying to make conversation.

Natalie lifted her shoulders.

"Over me, again," she said a little wryly.

Jenny laughed weakly, and lifted her head, wiping at her eyes. Black mascara smeared her face, and she pushed her hair out of her face, pulling her fingers through the tangles and then wiping her cheeks again.

She stepped forward and put her arms around Natalie, hugging her tightly. She brushed her daughter's hair back, pressing her lips to the crown of her head, tucking it under her chin.

"I'm so sorry, Natalie," she murmured, pressing her lips against her ear. She took a deep, shuddering breath. "When you never asked about him, I kept convincing myself even more that you were okay, and that it wasn't such a big mistake," she whispered.

"I knew talking about him hurt you," Natalie said, her eyes on Gibbs over her mother's shoulder. "I just didn't know why. So I kept quiet."

She closed her eyes.

Jenny nodded, and leaned back, chewing on her lip lightly. She stroked Natalie's cheek.

"I've been trying to keep it together for you, all my life," she said softly. "I was selfish at times, and young, and misguided, but I wanted what was best for you. I did. I still do."

Natalie nodded. She put her hand over Jenny's.

"But can you…can you please consider that it's – my choice now?" she asked, turning to Gibbs, and then back to Jenny. "He came with you, here, Mom. That's got to stand for something. And if something happens and he," she said, switching gears, "you," she corrected, talking to Gibbs, "can't cope with me right now, because of losing Kelly, and I get hurt – or it takes years to heal this," she turned back to Jenny, "can you please consider that – I choose that?"

Jenny studied her, a panic gripping her, a fear – and it wasn't over having to face Gibbs, or over Natalie hating her – because she started to feel the worst was over now, it had all come to a head, and it could start going towards resolution now – her fear was Natalie growing up, being on her own, not needing her anymore – and for almost exactly half of Jenny's life, Natalie had been the center of it.

Gibbs reached up and rubbed his jaw.

"Natalie," he said hoarsely. He paused, and cleared his throat. "I could've…tried harder," he said gruffly. "I could've – kept writin' letters, kept callin' – could have pushed, could have taken her to court," he listed. "Didn't want to – make you resent me, 'cause I was makin' your Mom unhappy. And I…I was dumb kid, too, Bug," he admitted. He swallowed hard. "Thought if I left the ball in her court," he said, nodding at Jenny, "one day you'd come to me, hatin' her. And I'd win."

Natalie lifted one shoulder.

"Kind of worked," she joked tearfully.

Gibbs just shook his head hollowly.

"Shouldn't have been like that," he said.

He paused, steeling himself.

"Kelly made me see things different," he said huskily. "Made me see what I'd given up on. I should've been around, Bug. No matter what she said."

Jenny let out a slow breath. Natalie studied Gibbs for a moment, and then stepped forward, and reached out for him. She touched his shoulders very gently, and then moved forward, slid her arms around him, and hugged him tightly.

Gibbs caught the back of her head in his hands, surprised, and then rested his palms on her shoulders, squeezing gently. He lowered his head, resting his forehead on the crown of hers, and he tightened his jaw – the last time he'd hugged her, she'd been small enough for him to carry in his arms, and on his shoulders – and in that moment, hugging her was the single most therapeutic thing he'd experienced since he'd lost Shannon and Kelly – more helpful than therapy; more helpful than beating the hell out of Galvin.

He lifted his head, and Jenny smiled at him, wiping at tears again. She lifted her shoulders, as if to give up her fight, and raised her eyes up, turning away a moment. He watched her stick her hands in her pockets, and then loosened his grip, and Natalie stepped back.

She pushed her hair back, her eyes glimmering with brightness, with a distinct happiness.

"You really want to do this?" she asked him lightly. "It's not – she's not just covering for you, making it seem like it was her fault so I don't get my feelings hurt?"

Jenny laughed hoarsely.

"You can't think I'm that much of a saint, after all this," she said skeptically.

Natalie looked at her intently.

"I think you'd do absolutely anything to keep me from getting hurt," she said sincerely.

Jenny smiled at her tiredly – exhausted, emotionally, and from lack of sleep. She licked her lips, and moved her head from side to side a little. Natalie turned her head back to Gibbs, and looked at him a little shyly.

"I'm not a drama queen," she said. "I am – actually an extremely balanced, introspective person with a logical grip on emotions – I'm composed," she informed astutely. "I've been called the Ice Queen in debate competitions."

His lips turned up a little – he didn't mind the drama; it seemed necessary – entirely appropriate.

"I hear my middle name was your doing," Natalie said softly.

Gibbs rubbed his jaw sheepishly. He looked at her warily.

"Uh," he said. "Yeah."

"November isn't in Winter," she said primly.

"So I been told," he answered dryly.

She arched a brow.

"You could have gone for Natalie November," she quipped.

He looked dubious.

"And have you end up a centerfold?" he drawled.

Jenny raised her eyes up, and shook her head – something about Natalie November did sound pornographic, but Natalie Winter, on someone less disciplined and determined, might only have the slightly less offensive connotation of 'exotic dancer.'

Natalie stepped back a few steps, and looked at them critically.

"I think we should stay the weekend," she said. She swallowed bravely. "I want to – stay here, one more day."

Jenny didn't say anything right away, and she knew Gibbs would dread the idea of being near his father, and near the graves of his lost loved ones – she wasn't keen on the idea, either. Natalie looked between them again earnestly.

"I'm afraid if we turn around and go right back, this won't settle," she pleaded, "it'll go back to right where we were."

Gibbs fixed his eyes on Jenny, and Jenny looked down a moment. Jenny took a deep breath, and stepped closer, taking Natalie's cheek in her palm gently.

"The slate isn't just wiped clean because we've shouted and cried," she said heavily. "This is cathartic, but – Natalie, you still," Jenny swallowed, sighing. "You still skipped school, and lied to me."

Natalie's face fell.

"I know," she said softly. "And I don't want to say I'm happy to be punished but," she looked between them, "if it got us to a breaking point – I am."

Jenny let go of her face lightly, chewing the inside of her lip – they had more to talk about, as mother and daughter; and Natalie, of course, would want to spend some time with Gibbs. In the silence, their daughter looked between them, and then suddenly perked up.

"You brought Bugsy!" she cried, as the dog, presumably having tracked them once she was done exploring, bounded down the rocks towards Natalie. "Oh – no – " Natalie started, as Bugsy leapt up to jump on her. "Mom!" Natalie shrieked, reaching out.

Jenny, startled, saw Natalie extend her hand to be steadied, and then, quite simply – instead of grabbing her hand – watched Natalie fall spectacularly into the river, splashing wildly as Bugsy bounded in next to her, pleased to have a friend. She barked excitedly, and Natalie leapt up.

"You – _you let me fall_!" she cried.

Jenny feigned innocence a moment, and then arched one eyebrow.

"Consider it a baptism," she said dryly.

She figured getting soaking wet in the mossy, metallic Stillwater creek was punishment enough for what was to come, though they had to have a talk, still – and she still wasn't sure everything was resolved between herself and Gibbs.

Natalie flung water up at them both, splashing furiously, shaking her hair out as Bugsy pounced at her playfully, and Jenny wrapped her arms around herself, watching her – she felt Gibbs' eyes on her, but she didn't look over; she'd been caught up in confessing, in telling the truth, and she'd been brutally honest about the way she'd always felt about him – and she wasn't ready to look into his eyes and try to decipher what he thought about that.

He stood there on the rocks where he'd first found out he was going to be a father, listening to Natalie play with his beloved dog, thinking about what had just transpired – what a good step it had been – and he knew, with some sense of solemnity, that he and Jenny still had a conversation to have – that for Natalie it would be easy to look forward with optimism, but for himself and Jen, it would take time to navigate complex emotions, and for old scars to fade.

He turned his head away from Jenny, and blinked, focusing on his daughter. He stopped thinking about all that for a moment, and concentrated on the good that had just come of this – the good that could come out of this, if they committed right now.

"Jen," he said gruffly. Hands in his pockets, he didn't look at her. He said: "We ought to go back p to the house and have dinner with Dad."

Jenny turned her head, looking at his profile.

She said:

"I think that's a good idea."

* * *

When lunch and supper had both passed, and things had settled and calmed, Jenny walked to the lone Stillwater Cemetery, intent on paying homage to her father, and Natalie's grandmother. She chose to walk both because it gave her time to reflect, and saved her from having to ask to borrow a car – since she'd ridden here with Gibbs.

As it turned out, she might as well have asked him for a ride; while she sat at her father's grave, having silently recounted the day's events, and taken a moment to trace her fingers alone the stone carving that spelled his name, Gibbs appeared at a grave on down by the back fence – Shannon's, she assumed – and Kelly's.

She stayed with her father a little longer, wondering if she should go over – not right away, of course; he needed time, no doubt – and of course, he'd have seen her here, sensed her presence. She hesitated to barge in on him during a grief soliloquy, but then, with brave resolve, she stood up, thinking – where better to try and bury some the things between them, than a graveyard?

She pushed her hair back, approaching as soundlessly as possible, until she came to stand near him, respectfully a few feet behind him. She folded her arms across her chest and waited, reading the stones over his shoulder –

 _Shannon Kathleen Gibbs; 1970-1998  
Beloved Wife  
Kelly Ann Gibbs; 1994-1998_  
 _Beloved Daughter  
1 Corinthians 15:26. _

Jenny tilted her head, unsure what part of the bible it referenced. Her own father's epithet was nothing religious – all it said was _'Hit a SNAFU, Charlie?',_ which was apparently a reference to her father's time in Viet Nam, and had been agreed upon by the remaining men from his unit. Jenny hadn't protested. She thought it represented him well.

After a moment, she cleared her throat softly.

"What verse is that?" she asked.

She hoped her tone was kind, unassuming; she tried to make it so.

He cleared his throat after a moment, still looking at the stones.

"The last enemy to be destroyed is death," he quoted, from memory. He was quiet, and then shook his head imperceptibly. "Her mother chose it."

Jenny nodded, stepping a little closer. There was a slight undercurrent of bitterness to the way he spoke about _her mother._ Jenny didn't know Shannon's mother; she'd only known Melissa Fielding, who had always been one of the most hostile of Jenny's denouncers. Jenny recalled her nasty look at Jasper Shepard's funeral, and thought maybe she understood it a little better.

"Was Shannon religious?" Jenny asked.

Gibbs shook his head –no, she hadn't been; not really. She'd baptized Kelly while she visited the states, when he was in Iraq, but she'd only done it to please her mother, and because she didn't want to argue about why it just seemed like a hassle to her.

Jenny squeezed her arms, comforting herself, and looked around the empty graveyard. The sun was sinking fast, and Gibbs turned his head a little, looking at her in profile.

"Where's Natalie?" he asked.

When he'd left his father's, Natalie and Jenny had been inside, going through some of Ann's things. Gibbs had been helping stock in the house, alone – and cleaning out the storage room upstairs.

"Ah, she's asleep," Jenny said lightly, laughing a little. "She fell asleep in front of the fire place – she's not much of a night owl, and I think today was," she paused, "harrowing."

"Night owl," Gibbs remarked mildly, turning back to the stones – his back to Jenny. He snorted softly. "Remember when she used to cry all the time?"

Jenny smiled. She nodded, and stepped forward again.

"I don't actually think she's cried as much as she did today – since then," she said weakly – Natalie wasn't much of a crier, and she hadn't really been one since her toddler years. Even then, it hadn't been more than normal. She didn't remark on that, though – she wasn't sure she wanted to bring up too many reminders of all Gibbs had missed, particularly when he was standing in front of a life lost. She stood there a while, wondering what to say – thinking, perhaps, that it had been a mistake to come over here.

She took a few steps back, and dipped her head. She hesitated, and then turned to go, cursing herself – she'd just have to talk to him later; at least now the ice was so broken she could ostensibly find an opening anywhere – hopefully before this weekend. As she started to walk off, though, he spoke.

"Shannon was always in your corner," he said gruffly, his voice just loud enough to be clearly heard without disturbing the peace of the atmosphere. She turned, looking at him - -disarmed. "The day we met," he went on heavily, "she told me she thought you were brave."

Jenny turned all the way around, staring at his back. Her eyes flicked to the grave he stared at, and she wondered why he kept his back to her – then, he turned towards her, hands in his pockets, meeting her eyes firmly. Jenny licked her lips slowly, swallowing. She hesitated a moment, and then took a deep breath.

"When did it happen?" she asked. "You and her."

Gibbs looked away for a minute, his jaw tightening. He shrugged, and looked at the ground, scuffing his foot before he looked up.

"It just did," he said, almost evasive.

Jenny gave him a half smile. She didn't want to press, but she did want to know more.

"She was takin' a bus, to travel," he said, after a moment of silence. "Same bus I was taking to go back to Lejeune."

Jenny caught her breath, a little dizzy – that fast? He'd taken up with someone else…that fast? The shock of it must have shown on her face, because he shook his head slightly, a muscle in his temple twitching. He narrowed his eyes intently.

"Wasn't like that, at first," he said, answering her unspoken anguish. He cleared his throat. "She was just…there. Somethin' from home." He paused. Strangely, he found it easier than he thought to talk about Shannon with her.

He'd always thought of Shannon – and to an extent Kelly – as something to be protected from Jenny, protected from her and all her incomprehensible and damaging choices. They were sacred and good and something Natalie could experience, but Jenny couldn't – one of the reasons he'd pitched a fit when Shannon had been about to send a Christmas picture.

But they were gone now, for good, and in an almost surreal twist if fate, he felt like he could mention her to Jenny – the same way he'd once felt he could more easily mention Jenny to Shannon.

"When did you start seeing her?" Jenny asked.

He shrugged a little.

"'Bout when I went to Pendleton," he said hoarsely.

Jenny nodded towards his wrist.

"Did she make that?"

Gibbs moved his hand slightly, peering down at it. He pulled his hand more clearly out of his pocket and touched the red and pink yarn bracelet, as it hung on by a thread. He nodded slowly, admiring it. When he looked up, his face was unreadable.

She said:

"What do you mean – she was in my corner?"

Her voice was soft, wary.

Gibbs thought about it intently, unsure how to phrase it. He reached up and rubbed his jaw, folding his arms after a moment – his muscles were tense, and his face darkened a little.

"She just – was," he said stiffly. "Wanted Kelly to meet Natalie, always pushed me not to give up," he grunted. He hesitated. He didn't know how to explain it. "She didn't like me not seein' Natalie," he said finally. "But she…seemed to get it." He paused, his face dark a moment. "She admired you."

Jenny smiled a little, her brow furrowing.

"She didn't know me," she said, barely above a whisper.

Jenny had never given Shannon Fielding a second glance. She was so preoccupied – rightly so – with a baby and Ann's cancer and then Gibbs joining the military – she hadn't had time to think about anything else.

Gibbs nodded once, curtly – no, she hadn't known her.

"She said you had guts," he said huskily.

Jenny bowed her head, digging her toes into the dirt. She chewed the inside her lip, biting back a grateful smile. After a moment, she looked up, and took a quiet, shaky breath.

"That's – flattering," she said in a small voice. She lifted her shoulders slightly. "When I found out you were – married," she said, "and I knew that's who the cards must be from I just thought of her as…some usurper," she confessed quietly. "She made me feel nervous. Threatened. I don't know, like, like," she faltered. She sighed. "Like she was trying to wheedle Natalie away from me – kill me with kindness."

Jenny flushed; she felt nauseous for admitting it – but she had always been both hostile to and devastated by the idea of Gibbs being happily with someone else – especially with another child. She didn't feel that way now, hearing him talk – and it wasn't because they had died, and they weren't a threat - actually, in death, in memory, they were probably more of a threat – but she didn't want to see him in this kind of pain.

Gibbs shook his head.

"She wasn't like that," he managed, words unsteady. "She was…good."

Jenny moved closer, putting her hands in her pockets. She nodded, her eyes on him.

"I would have liked to meet her," she said.

To her surprise, Gibbs snorted a little, lowering his eyes a minute. He looked up wryly, and wrinkled his forehead.

"Nah, you wouldn't," he told her flatly. He shrugged.

She frowned a little.

"Jethro, I – "

"'M not sayin' you would've been hostile," he said bluntly. He flexed his hand slightly, nonchalant. "You just wouldn't have liked it. Me, with her. Them."

The way he said it was so final, and she felt like crying; he might be right. She'd never know, truly, but – he might be right. She'd have always felt inferior to the woman he ended up with, to the family had, especially if Natalie had developed a close, perfect relationship with them – and it wasn't necessarily because she'd have disliked Shannon, or born ill will towards Kelly, it just would have been hard. But that – God, that didn't mean –

"Jethro," she choked out, reaching out to touch his elbow lightly. "I hope you don't think – I can't imagine what it's like to lose – a child, and only a part of me knows what it might be like to lose a partner you love – "

"Yeah, Jen."

"No, I want you to hear this," she said, pleading. "There isn't a _single_ part of me that's satisfied, or happy, or even marginally relieved that – this happened to you. I want you to know that," she emphasized, "believe it," she said softly. "I would have never wished this on you, on anyone," she whispered. She broke off a little, her voice cracking: "I'd have given you Natalie, if it could have somehow spared you this."

He shook her hand off him.

"Don't say that, Jen," he said warily. "You don't – that's givin' her up, and you don't know what it's like to lose – "

"But I'd know she was with someone who loves her; who'd take care of her," Jenny said tightly. "I'm just trying to show you that I'm not glad you're alone, I don't think this is going to be any easier, without them than it would be with them," she said tiredly.

"You'd never have given Natalie up, Jen," he said, his mouth tightening.

"No," Jenny said, swallowing, "but that's why you reached out again, isn't it?" She asked hoarsely. "Because of Kelly. And not in the bad way, that I thought," she said quickly. "Because – you lost Kelly. And it put everything into perspective," she guessed. "It made you think – it was important to get over all of our issues and know Natalie, even if you hated me, and had decided to spite me and wait for her to come to you – it was important because not having a relationship with your daughter if you could, when there was no chance for the other, would kill you."

Gibbs looked at her with steely eyes, both impressed and disarmed by the analysis – of course that was it; that was it so absolutely that he felt hollowed out by her words – drained by how much he'd _felt_ exactly what she was saying.

"That's it, right?" Jenny asked softly. "You aren't just – replacing Kelly?"

He met her eyes.

"S'not like that, Jen," he said, through gritted teeth. "You don't…have another kid, and pick a favorite. It's not one or the other," he forced out, trying to make her understand. "You love 'em both. The same," he managed. He nodded, confirming her words. "None of it," he gestured between them, and then flung his hand around almost comically – at the cemetery, at Stillwater in general, "mattered anymore. She's my daughter," he said hoarsely. He swallowed hard. "Bug was my daughter first, Jenny."

She didn't need to be reminded, and she didn't think in saying that he was implying Kelly was less important to him – but he did seem to be chastising her for thinking Natalie would ever be just a second resort. For a brief moment, Jenny wondered again if Shannon was the one who had more cause to feel that way – but then, she hardly thought so; what he said made sense, about loving children equally. If anything, it was Shannon who might have felt threatened by Jenny – like Jenny felt threatened by her –

But that felt silly now, irrelevant.

There was nothing remotely romantic about this reunion.

"Shannon would have wanted this," Gibbs said quietly. He swallowed hard. "She wouldn't want me…gettin' in trouble," Jenny assumed he was referencing his military issues, "shuttin' myself up," he trailed off – he was thinking of his early Marine days, when Shannon had berated him for almost throwing his career away _then_ , saved him from himself back then. "Only time we ever fought was over you and Natalie. And me not doin' enough."

Jenny felt out of place a moment, uncertain. She didn't know how she felt, learning that she'd been an ongoing – a solitary – point of contention. She was selfishly glad she'd remained in Jethro's heart and mind, when it seemed so much like he'd gotten everything and forgotten about her, but at the expense of driving a wedge between him and his wife – she didn't like it; it made her feel soiled, unworthy.

Jenny pushed her hair back and swallowed, staring at her feet.

"I _know_ how impossible I made it," she said, almost to herself – though it was easier to admit, having already screamed about it in front of him, down by the river. She put her hand to her chest, and looked up. "I know it was selfish. I've always known that, and for years, years, afterwards, I had a maniacal focus on Natalie – tunnel vision focus, _destructive_ focus – to justify it," she told him. "I gave up on you after half a year in the military, Jethro," she said, with lingering dread. "You…may have given up on Natalie, but you held on longer than I did. And you did it," she paused, catching her breath, "I know you did it to keep her from seeing us fight, and because I made you doubt yourself."

She licked her lips.

"When I lost Dad, right after we'd buried the past, and started to move forward, it – nearly destroyed me," she said. "And since then – it's been a process of understanding how damaging it can be to hold on to the past, or to dwell on old grudges, when your time could be cut short so suddenly," she choked, "and I know you understand that," she added, closing her eyes. "And you know, with us working together, us living in close proximity, and Natalie – it can't just be a robotic, linear custody thing – and she's too old for that, anyway – we're going to have to interact, have some relationship," she acknowledged, "and I hope you can forgive me, and we can – work through all these things. For her," she said, pausing, "but also…for us," she finished in a small voice.

Gibbs was silent a moment, and then he gestured behind him with his elbow a little.

"I get it, Jen," he said.

Her brow furrowed.

"You - ?"

"I _get_ it," he said, a defeated look in his eyes. "I left you here. You didn't want me to go."

"You had to join the Marines, Jethro," she said. "It's who you are."

"I didn't have to go right then," he said heavily. He paused. "She – Shannon – it was hard on her. Hard on them. Movin' all the time. Me bein' gone. Deployed when Kelly was born, Shannon bein' away from her family," he listed. "It was hard. She told me it was what she wanted. She chose it," he said, quoting one of Shannon's many words of wisdom. "Kelly, she never lived in the States," he said, his voice hitching. He reached up and rubbed his jaw. "I never liked that you left like that, the letter," he said, "and cuttin' me off. That wasn't right," he reiterated, "I didn't ever do anything to hurt Natalie," he reminded her. "I read the letter couple more times, as the years went on," he admitted grudgingly. He shrugged. "Made more sense."

Jenny took a deep, steadying breath, and let it out, tilting her head up. She pointed to her chest lightly.

"I'm admitting I made the wrong decision in pushing you away, in cutting you off and pretending it was for Natalie's good," she said in a barely audible voice. She transferred her finger, and pointed it at him; tip pressing into his chest gently. "You're admitting it was more complicated than us just – getting married, running off – that we weren't ready."

He nodded, and she closed her eyes tightly. For a moment, it felt like the world turned inside out, and spun in a circle – when she opened her eyes, she lowered her hand, and she stared at him, feeling both a sense of immeasurable relief, and hollow regret. The corner of her mouth turned up.

"Look at how long it took us to grow up," she lamented weakly.

Her face crumpled a little, and she put her head in a moment, holding back tears, composing herself.

She lifted her head – but she didn't know what to say next; would either of them have done anything differently? She wouldn't ask him – it would put him in the position of deciding if it was better to love and lose, or never love – he'd have to say that he wished Kelly had never existed, or that he wished he'd never gotten back in touch with Natalie, and she refused to put him in that position – and she herself wasn't sure what she'd say.

She had put her daughter through so much pain in the past few weeks, and she herself had suffered since leaving him – and she didn't think it was good, what they had done to each other, and how Natalie had ended up in the middle, but she had come to so much opportunity in leaving – college, NCIS, her master's.

She didn't know if the means justified the ends in this situation – and as it were, this wasn't really the _end_ of something.

He cleared his throat.

"You never moved on?" he asked finally. He hesitated. "Natalie, she, uh – said you dated her teacher. Pretty serious."

"Did she?" Jenny asked dryly, her throat still thick with tears. She rolled her eyes a little, and swiped at her cheeks, shrugging. She nodded. "Well, I did," she admitted truthfully. She chewed on her lip a moment. "He was a good man. Natalie liked him."

Gibbs nodded, his jaw twitching tensely at the last part – she didn't blame him; Natalie was what had held her back, too. Jenny shrugged again.

"I didn't love him," she said huskily.

Gibbs nodded, his eyes on her intently.

"All that stuff you said, to Natalie," he began slowly. "'Bout me," he prompted.

He didn't say anything else, and he knew he didn't have to; he'd been there, and she knew what she'd said – about loving him, about somehow, foolishly, always holding out for him. She just smiled faintly, her cheeks flushing – it was dark now, the night cast in moonlight; maybe he didn't see her cheeks glow.

Gibbs put his hands in his pockets again.

"You spend all this time thinkin'…I was _pining_ over you?" he asked. "Thinkin' we'd pick right back up, some day?"

The way he asked – it wasn't hostile, it wasn't vindictive, it was a little incredulous; and tinged with disbelief. Even if they had broken up with less chaos and destruction, a belief like that would have been immature and – fanciful. She knew that's what it was, and when he asked, when he put it into words, she pushed her hair back, hiding her face in her arm a moment. She lowered her hand, and shrugged.

"Hell," she said softly, "maybe I did. When I was younger," she said. She lifted her eyes. "When I thought you'd – come after me, in hell or high water," she simpered dryly. She parted her lips, and stopped.

"And now?" he asked bluntly.

She compressed her lips, and then sighed quietly.

"I've said before," she began softly, "that it's hard not to – care, _intimately_ ," she chose her words diplomatically, "for someone who – is the father of your child." She paused, and swallowed. "But it's been so – _silly_ , of me, right?" she asked desperately, "to think myself still in love with you, or more accurately, to think I know you now, like I did back then."

She bit her lip, and then said:

"I used to have a nightmare about you. That you'd died in Desert Storm, and your body kept being covered in sand. And no one claimed you. You were left there, and I had to watch. I couldn't take back leaving you."

Thinking of the old nightmare, she shivered, but she steeled herself, and went on.

"It was so arrogant of me to think you'd never dare move on. That your whole life would always be about me," she hesitated, "when it was my life that was always about – you. Me holding back, because I wanted you and I," she held her hand towards her chest, "didn't know how to make sacrifices, back then. I didn't understand love like an adult."

She clasped her hands, and put her lips to them a moment.

"You've always been stoic, Jethro," she said shakily. "You face things. Accept them. You move on. I…still don't."

He watched her silently for a long time, thinking; saying nothing. She seemed to panic, in the silence, and he sighed, reaching up to scratch the nape of his neck. He wanted to say something, to let her knew – but emotional displays were hard for him, and to share something that would make him so – vulnerable – but he had to make sure she understood –

"Jen," he managed, his voice constricted. He lifted his shoulders helplessly. "I loved 'er," he saw, his voice raw, emphatic. "She wasn't – second best to you, someone who just – was there, to distract me," he explained, referring to Shannon. "I loved her. More'n – more'n I can say," his voice cracked, and he stopped talking.

"I know, Jethro," she said earnestly. "I can see it – in every fiber of your being," she said, her lips trembling. "I'm not – " she shook her head, her mouth dry. "We're different people, than we were back then," she said wisely. "We're not the way we were. I talk about loving you – the way I remember it, the way I didn't heal from it," she said, "and I don't know how I feel about you anymore," she confessed, "but I'm not asking for commitment, or you to feel anything for me."

He nodded, and she felt somehow lighter, somehow cleansed – all these years, hanging on to a brutal unrequited love, and it took only seconds to realize she had deluded herself into some sort of debilitating, infantile Scarlett O'Hara syndrome – loving something that no longer existed, that had changed so much.

The way they were now didn't negate how they'd loved each other as teenagers – but they weren't teenagers anymore, and there were twelve years and thousands of separate experiences between them.

After a moment, he nodded again, and she felt like they had taken steps forward.

"This isn't going to be easy," she said, steadying herself. "This, this – _adrenaline_ we're on now, this ongoing catharsis – it's going to fade, and we're going to fight."

He smirked a little, his eyes flickering with amusement for a moment, and then dulling, remembering why, and remembering the things he'd lost.

"We have to work on our relationship – for Natalie," Jenny decided. "I know we have a lot of things to work through."

He gave her a look – _understatement of the century_ – and she put her hands over her mouth and laughed a little dryly.

"We need to take things slowly," Jenny said, "but I'm not going back to the way I was. And I want to ask that," she took a deep breath, "we don't involve the courts. I'd rather – try to build trust."

She held her breath, anticipating – she just remembered how court had been so awful when she was pregnant, how taking all the custody away from Gibbs and saddling him with so much had driven a wedge between them – she hadn't seen it as much then, but she saw it now; him with so much responsibility financially and so few rights paternally. She'd acquiesce if he wanted legal custody now, but Natalie was fourteen –

Gibbs nodded, though his eyes were sharp. She knew at the slightest indication of wishy-washy behavior on her part, he'd slap her with documents, and she silently acknowledged that she understood. She looked at her feet a moment, and then, after a look around, she caught his eye.

"Have you visited your mother yet?" she asked.

He shook his head, and she arched an eyebrow. He moved towards her, and she turned – he understood she thought they should go together, and instinctively, his hand rested against her lower back as he followed her at a slower pace.

"Think she'd have a few things to say to us?" he asked gruffly.

Jenny pushed her hair back, laughing under her breath – she still wondered, sometimes, what her life – their life – would be like if they'd never lost Ann Gibbs.

Next to her, Gibbs smiled a little, but in the touch of his hand she felt how much he hurt, how the ache of his soul was reflected in his stiff touch. It worried her, but she could work through it – she could handle it, talk it out; they were mature now – they were going to do better.

* * *

The sun was out in Stillwater on Sunday afternoon, glittering brightly through the General Store windows as Jenny shared a cup of coffee with Jackson Gibbs, having a last conversation with him as she prepared to start the trek back to the capitol.

Presently, she was staring into her cup in a mixture of amusement and exasperated acceptance – Jackson was ringing up several items that Betsy Carmichael and Maggie Hart – of course, both had different last names now, but Jenny knew them as she knew them – had decided they needed _immediately_. These items included an onion, a pack of gum, and some cigarettes – non-necessities, and surely excuses to come by and sneak a peek at a homegrown scandal, but since Natalie was safely removed from the squinting publicity at the moment, Jenny tried to take it in stride.

Betsy and Maggie were, as it turned out, the fifth and sixth customers to casually stride in and express faux-surprise at Jenny's presence; as it always did, word had gotten out and ran rampant, and people were eager for gossip – especially after what Deborah Henry had no doubt repeated.

"Thanks, Jack," Betsy said.

"Thanks, Mr. Gibbs," chorused Maggie, in a deeply patronizing, breathy voice.

Jenny sat back, looking up boldly as they turned, and Jackson returned to the table.

"I'd so like to see Natalie again – is she around?" Betsy asked, as airily as possible.

"Nope," Jenny said succinctly. "I lost her. How are your kids, Betsy?"

Betsy sighed. Jenny had heard she was divorced now – that, Jenny applauded her for; she'd made the mistake of marrying that awful Chuck, at least she had the guts to leave him.

"They're rascals," Betsy said. "Driving me crazy – you know the feeling," she simpered.

"Can't say I do," Jenny said breezily. "Natalie is a doll."

Betsy gave her a look, and Maggie Hart cleared her throat, stepping up.

"I know she's real smart," Maggie said, fluttering her lashes. She took something out of her bag. "I know that can misguide people sometimes," she said, affecting a serious look. She handed an item to Jenny. "I brought this for her – I run the library now, and this is a real old copy, so no one'll miss it, and from what I hear, she needs it."

Jenny looked at it, reaching out – and stared.

 _The Holy Bible._

In Jenny's silence, Maggie spoke:

"Dunkin' 'em in the river ain't all it takes," she said, laughing a little – there was something so hollow and condescending about her preaching.

Still, Jenny took the bible, silently blinking at Maggie.

"Thanks, Maggie," she said, deadpan. "It's been hard. Since she was conceived under a full moon, you know, in the presence of a goat Gibbs had just sacrificed," Jenny sighed, affecting sadness, "well, it's just been a hedonistic struggle ever since."

To her surprise, Betsy snorted; Maggie Hart gave her an appalled look, and both girls ushered themselves out of the store, leaving with the jingle of a bell – Jenny hoped they didn't go prowling around the house exploring; Gibbs had never liked either of them much at all, and Jenny didn't necessarily need Natalie traumatizing them.

For his part, Jackson looked at her dryly.

Jenny sat forward, curling her hands around her mug, pushing the good book aside.

"There wasn't really a goat," she confided slyly.

Jackson held up his hand.

"Enough."

"I wasn't going to tell you anymore," she retorted, dead serious – there had been enough intimate revelations concerning Natalie's, er, coming into being, thanks to Gibbs and his big fat mouth.

Jackson nodded.

"What prompted that?"

"Oh, I told Debbie Henry that I'd brought Natalie back to baptize her because she'd joined the Satanic Temple," Jenny said breezily.

Jackson grinned a little, shaking his head fondly.

"Give 'em hell, Jennifer, they all deserve it," he said. "Go easier on Debbie, though – that's my lady," he said, a little gruffly.

Jenny gave him kind of a funny look – Debbie was nosy, a typical loose-lipped biddy with small town values, but she had been decent to Jenny way back then, and she supposed Jackson could do worse. It did seem an odd choice though, considering the history – but if it had to be a dress shop owner, at least it wasn't Melissa Fielding.

"Does Jethro know?" she asked.

"Yeah," Jackson drawled grudgingly. "Hates it. What'd ya expect, though? He's gonna hate anyone who ain't his mama," he said flatly. He shrugged. "Can't blame the boy."

"No," Jenny agreed softly, resting her chin on her hand. "You can't."

She thought of Ann, and how much she missed her; she wished Gibbs' mother was here to see Natalie – had been around to see her grow up. Though she'd never married Gibbs, Jenny had always viewed Ann as a second mother – especially in the stressful, chaotic, and harrowing months right after Natalie had been born.

"Maggie Hart," Jackson snorted. He arched a brow. "Her, givin' you a bible – when she caught her husband red handed with her own Mama, and just to get him back, went after his Daddy – so I heard."

Jackson then took a very dignified sip of his coffee, while Jenny's hand fell from her chin and she widened her eyes in shocked glee – she laughed, and then held her hand out in disbelief.

"Yet I'm still the spectacle because I had a bastard at sixteen," she lamented melodramatically. She shook her hand, lifting her coffee to her lips. "Natalie could run this town," she scoffed good-naturedly. "With her eyes closed. And one hand tied behind her back."

Jackson smiled gently, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't sell us too short, Jenny," he requested quietly. "We got our charms."

She paused a moment, and lowered her mug a bit contritely – she inclined her head. Her experience was so coloured by what she'd endured after her pregnancy, and subsequent position as an unwed teen mother, that she tended to demonize the whole town, and every person in it – but she did also know, deep down, that it was a part of her, and that before it had all gone sour, she'd had some memorable times in Stillwater.

It didn't mean she loved it, or ever wanted to go back – or wished she'd stayed – but it did remind her not to hate people who were products of the system and their environment, even if they'd been cruel to her; she could be frustrated, but total hatred was unfair.

She nodded to herself, placing her hand over the opening of her mug.

"It's strange being back, like this," she said, looking up, her eyes cautious. She caught Jackson's eye through her lashes.

"You been back before," Jackson remarked. "For Chief's funeral."

She nodded silently, and went on to amend her statement.

"With him," she said softly, keeping her voice low. "It's strange to be back – with both of them. And," she began, hesitating, "the feeling is different."

Last time, she'd been so devastated by her father's death, and then so blindsided by news of where Gibbs' life had gone, she hadn't taken time to be in the moment – she'd suppressed it all, hated it all, wished herself away; she'd been so busy forcing herself to keep it together, she hadn't taken a moment to embrace the formative years of her life and confront where she'd come from.

This time…it was different, as she'd said. For one thing, it wasn't loss and tragedy that had brought her back – it wasn't regression, or pain; it was something to push her forward.

"I 'spect Leroy feels about the same," Jackson said heavily.

Jenny compressed her lips sympathetically – he very well might, since the last time he'd been back had been a funeral of his own. She rested her chin on her hand again, and chewed lightly on her bottom lip, thinking.

She was in here with Jackson; Natalie was out back with Gibbs – they were working on the car. They'd been working on the car all day, and something about it made Jenny feel good, and _content_. Gibbs seemed skeptical that Natalie wanted to work on it – that she could work on it – and Jenny was proudly positive he'd be astonished with her skill; Natalie was better with machinery than she was with nail polish, and she was very good with nail polish.

"So," Jackson began. "The two of you set some things straight?"

Jenny studied him intently, and after a moment, he cleared his throat.

"'M not tryin' to pry," he said warily. He paused a moment. "Well, I reckon I am," he corrected frankly. "But you got to understand, I had a lot to do with runnin' Leroy off," he said simply, "so if I want my wife to rest in peace, I got a lot ridin' on this."

He smiled a little, his face open, warm.

"It'd make me happy to know you're doin' right for each other, for little missy's sake."

"Ah," Jenny sighed, arching her brows. "She's not so little anymore, is she?" she asked dryly. "Taking a clandestine, solitary trip to Pennsylvania…" she trailed off, clicking her tongue – the anger and shock and panic had long faded, though she still had a talkin' to for Natalie concerning _trust_ and _rash decision-making._

But Gibbs had made a good point yesterday – she had made a mistake; but it wasn't one that would irrevocably change the course of her life – it wasn't irreversible; it wasn't _their_ mistake.

And _their_ mistake was doing pretty well, as it were.

Slowly, Jenny nodded.

"We've outlined some things," she said hesitantly. "It's going to be a process."

She lifted her coffee, leaning back in the small wooden chair – it was old furniture, the same furniture she'd sat in, in tears, when she told Gibbs' parents, and then her father, that she was pregnant. She felt confident in it now; she felt like she owned it.

"Natalie wants to have a set night with him, once a week," Jenny said, revealing something they'd all discussed earlier today – during a strangely calm breakfast, for which Jackson had been conspicuously absent – at church, he said; no doubt with Debbie Henry.

Jenny pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

"I asked Jethro to try this without involving the courts," she said, knowing she was less than trustworthy there, "so I – I agreed to that, to them having their own time – provided she _never_ lets it interfere with her school or her good judgment _again_ ," Jenny added, slight annoyance edging into her voice.

"Of course," snorted Jackson.

Jenny nodded to herself, biting the inside of her lip. She raised her eyes.

"And Jethro and I…we work together, now," she said, though Jackson already knew – she was really talking out loud, for the moment. "We'll have to – sort ourselves out, gradually," she said. "I suppose," she murmured. She looked down, and then back up again. "But I won't…be interfering with their time," she said, laughing hoarsely. "I'll want to," she admitted. "I'll want to control the whole thing but – I can't."

Simply, she shrugged. Jackson smiled at her – he looked very proud; very relieved.

"I think this'd make your old man happy, Jennifer," he said seriously. "He was real proud of Natalie, always. Real proud of you, as the years went on. I think there at the end – well, he didn't know any more'n the rest of us that he was gonna go the way he did but – we were gettin' the same feelin'," Jackson confessed heavily.

"What's that?" Jenny asked softly.

He shrugged.

"That we punished you two, too hard, for too long. And it taught y'all all the wrong things about compromisin', and forgivin', and makin' the best."

Jenny smiled softly, her eyes stinging. She looked away, and wiped at them.

"Disappointing him broke my heart every day," she confessed in a small voice. "It was easier not to live with him, you know?" she murmured. "Not have to see that look in his eyes every day." She sighed, and looked back at Jackson, smiling sadly. "I miss him," she said hoarsely. "I really wish he'd been more involved in Natalie's life."

She looked at her hands a moment.

"I wish that about Gibbs, too," she said hastily, as if Jackson might take offence. "And, um, you," she offered." Jenny put her hand to her face. "I convinced myself so completely that I was making a good decision."

Jackson looked at her with kindness. She lowered her hand, and he pushed his chair back, hesitating.

"This has been rough," he said, straightforward. "But I don't think what you did ruined anyone's life. Natalie's had everything she'd never have gotten here. And Leroy – well, I know he's hurtin', but he learned a lot. And he loved a lot."

Jackson cleared his throat.

"I'm gonna show you somethin'. It ain't to make you feel bad or anything, I just want you to know what kind of woman he married," he said.

Jenny watched apprehensively as he went to the bulletin board behind the register. After a good, hard look, he selected a post card and came over, handing it to her. It was a gorgeous snapshot of a European castle, and clipped to the back was a neatly folded, small piece of paper, and a photo.

The photo was of a woman – a redhead Jenny presumed was Shannon – holding a toddler in her lap. They both had flower crowns on their heads, and the toddler was waving, with a pretty little smile on her face – Jethro's smile, and Natalie's.

"Read that," Jackson said gruffly.

Jenny carefully opened the note, hesitating a moment, and then she did. Her eyes scanned quickly –

 _Jackson,  
I didn't tell Jethro what you told me on the phone, about you telling Jenny about us. I did tell him about Jasper Shepard's death, and he seemed upset. I think at some point, he'll heal over this and come around. In the mean time, I still plan on telling Kelly she has a sister, and if Jenny ever asks about us, please give her our address and let her know that if it ever comes up, I'd be happy to make sure Natalie is at home here. Kelly says hi – she's smiling in this picture, but right after Jethro took it she started screaming because some grass touched her foot.  
Love,  
Shannon. _

\- and after she was finished reading, she stared for a moment, before she looked up.

Her eyes stung as she shakily handed the letter back to Jackson.

"She cared about him havin' a relationship with your girl," Jackson said gently. "I wasn't – schemin' with her, or anything, never spillin' secrets," he paused, and Jenny nodded – she knew that; she trusted Jackson. "I never knew if I should've told you she offered that."

Jenny compressed her lips.

"I don't think it would have mattered much, then," she said hoarsely; honestly.

She didn't feel any jealous or hostility over the note; it brimmed with sincerity and kindness; Shannon had meant well – she'd had good intentions, and it made Jenny feel ashamed, that a woman she didn't even know could have seen the good in both Gibbs and Jenny herself, and tried to bring that back onto the same negotiation page all along.

"She was good for him, wasn't she?" Jenny asked.

"Oh, yeah," Jackson said, returning the postcard, note, and picture to its pinned place. "You 'n' her would've gotten along. Different women, no doubt," he said firmly. "But you'd have gotten along," he repeated.

Shannon had been more traditional than Jenny in many ways; she was laid back, kind, found pleasure in small things and family – Jenny had been itching to shatter glass ceilings, and go on adventures, and do things, and - well, they were both strong, and confident; but they were different. Jackson saw it, and his son had, too – though something similar in both of them had drawn him in.

Shannon, no doubt, had taught him how to have a real, adult relationship, how to be a parent, and struggle through things, and a marriage, and he'd seen what it was like to have to weather all that – he'd seen a little of Jenny's point of view.

The younger Jethro had foreseen leaving Stillwater, but had envisioned a life experience somewhat similar to his parents', with the obvious difference being he treated his wife better than Jackson treated Ann; naturally, it's what he knew – the older Jethro was more able to understand the woman Jenny had always been destined to be; he was more world wise – it wasn't all about it being simple, white picket fence life anymore.

He'd learned, quite brutally, that even that life was never what it seemed.

As Jackson sat back down, Jenny caught his eye earnestly, leaning forward.

"Do you think he can handle this?" she asked in a hushed tone.

She didn't mean it in a derogatory way; she wasn't trying to back out, or be catty, but she was concerned about her daughter, and she was concerned about Gibbs, too. She knew if anything went wrong, Gibbs would feel awful, and guilty, and he'd be losing something again.

Jackson sat down heavily in the chair across from her, pulling his coffee towards him.

"I mean," Jenny began quietly, intently, "he lost so much. You know how – how he was, between Ann dying and him leaving for the Marines – you couldn't reach him," she remembered. "He wasn't there. He was just – a _shell_. "

Jackson nodded, thinking about it for a moment. He took a deep breath.

"I think my boy has a long way to go," he said honestly. "But I got to speak up for him here, 'cause I think he can do it. He's got some stuff to work through, Jennifer," Jackson said, "but you got to work with him. You got to give him every chance. You're plenty old enough," he said pointedly, "to handle it when it's hard."

Jackson paused for a long moment.

"And you lost someone, too. You know how hard it is. How it never goes away."

Jenny thought of her father. She pushed back her hair, nodding. She covered her mouth for a moment – he was right; he was absolutely right. She couldn't plan on just balking and stopping everything if Natalie got upset one day, or if Gibbs made a mistake – she'd made plenty of mistakes, hadn't she? And Natalie – there was something so right about what Natalie had said; she deserved to make her own choices about her father. She was a smart girl. If she got hurt – well, Jenny couldn't protect her forever, but at least for now, she could be there to help if she needed to.

"Well," Jenny sighed, finishing the last of her coffee. "I guess it's all up in the air now."

She sat back, drumming her fingers on the tabletop. Jackson took a sip of coffee, and said:

"Natalie had mentioned she wanted to come here for Thanksgiving?"

Jenny nodded, tilting her head a little.

"Yes," she murmured. "That started right after she got a box of things from my mother – I think she wanted to investigate," she said.

Jenny leaned forward.

"That's the week after her birthday," she remarked.

Jackson nodded; Jenny sighed.

"All of this, coming up in the holiday season – I think that could affect things badly, if she wants to just dive into," Jenny gestured tensely, "big, dramatic family gatherings," she said dryly. "Holidays are stressful times, even in wholesome, perfect families."

"No family is perfect," Jackson said mildly.

"No," Jenny agreed, "but this one has a particularly tense history that could be negatively exacerbated by trying to make it all – _Donna Reed_ – " she smacked her hands together, "right off the bat."

Jenny frowned – she was worried about the battles that might come up over holidays; she knew Natalie was going to want to just start up with extravagant family get-togethers as if nothing had ever happened, and that was probably not the greatest idea – Gibbs was still healing, and now Jenny and Natalie had healing, too.

Blending their lives was going to take more than one day on the riverbank in Stillwater.

"My mother – we haven't seen her since we moved," Jenny told him – it had been May, in ninety-seven, when they moved to D.C., when Natalie was finishing up middle school. "She wanted us to do Christmas with her this year – Christmas in Tahiti," she laughed. After a moment, she bit her lip, and shrugged. "I blew her off, but I think…that would be nice."

She pushed her hair back.

"So, I think we'll go out to California for Christmas," she said. She smiled wryly. "But, we'll come back."

Jackson grinned a little gruffly, and gave a sharp nod.

"Might press Leroy to have me for Thanksgiving," he said, "bridge our gap."

"Another thing that would help in the long run," Jenny said softly.

Jackson hesitated.

"He needs to communicate with his in-laws, Joanne and Mack Fielding," he said finally. "Joanne says he's got all their – Shannon, and Kelly's – things, boxed up. He needs to address it all."

Jenny nodded.

"I'm sure it's hard," she said softly. "It's going to be rocky for a while. Difficult."

She was silent a moment, and then she glanced up at the clock on the wall, and sighed heavily. She got up, sticking her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

"We have to get going," she said. "I don't want to get back too late – school tomorrow," she said wryly – and she'd have to get up early enough to get Natalie to school personally, because she'd decided part of Natalie's discipline was being driven directly to the front door of her school every morning for a month so Jenny could see she was going.

Slightly excessive, because she knew Natalie wasn't going to do this again – at least, she was fairly sure – but it was a relatively benign punishment that at least constricted the freedom she enjoyed a little bit so she could see what she'd lose if she couldn't be trusted.

In an odd twist, Gibbs had suggested it. He'd overheard Jenny say, shortly, that she hadn't thought of a good way to deal with the punishment yet, and he'd quite simply just said: _'drive her to school, that's embarrassing.'_

Jenny smiled, and turned, heading out to the front of the store – she'd told Natalie to meet her out front, where Gibbs' truck was parked, at quarter to three. She had almost half the day with her father, and Jenny felt that was good for her – she was slightly apprehensive about all of them in the car together for the road trip back.

She instinctively puled her shoulders in a little when the cold air hit her, and then ran her hands up and down her arms, standing outside the storefront with Jackson. Across the street, at the flower shop, someone waved; another person peered out of a window.

Jenny laughed, shaking her head. She checked her watch, biting the inside of her lip. She tilted her head around, expecting Natalie to come from the path behind the store. The sound of an engine revving suddenly broke the small town peace, and Jenny turned around, startled, in time to see a blur of black and yellow whip around the corner and rocket forward, coming to a jolting, inexperienced stop fight near Gibbs' truck in the street.

Jackson gave a choice swear word and shook his head, glowering, and Jenny blinked, taking it in a moment – there was no doubt she was looking at the old Dodge Charger that had once been Gibbs' pride-and-joy project – displayed in the street in front of her, it seemed old and new all at once –

It was running, for one thing, and sitting behind the wheel was an all-too-gleeful looking Natalie.

Stunned for a moment, Jenny just stared at her daughter, who had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel – Natalie driving explained the gear-stripping sound that had accompanied the car's engine – and then slowly, she cut her gaze the Gibbs, sitting slightly smugly in the passenger seat, and she put one hand on her hip, and raised her eyebrow.

It took that, and nothing more, for Natalie to kill the engine and scramble out of the car, snickering.

"It was just around the corner, Mom," she began, breathless, as Gibbs slowly got out of his masterpiece and strode forward, his face slightly unreadable, an almost indiscernible sly glitter in his eye.

Jenny looked over Natalie's head at him.

"She doesn't even have a permit yet," Jenny said dryly, narrowing her eyes.

Gibbs put his hands in his pockets, shrugging. He gave her a small smirk, tongue in cheek:

"When's the first time you drove a car, Jen?" he retorted.

She grit her teeth – another stable of small town childhood was, at some point, joy riding – not that it was something Jenny would condone, having gained adult perspective and realized how dangerous it could turn out. But, she supposed, with Gibbs right there, and only a small stretch of road to handle, it was acceptable that Natalie had gotten a taste of the Stillwater ethos.

Natalie turned her head up.

"I have to learn how to drive a stick, if it's going to be mine," she said wryly, eyes sparkling.

Jenny looked at her a moment, and then flicked her eyes up at Gibbs through her lashes, giving him a warning look – promising Natalie a car was not exactly a great way to begin things; it felt like bribery. She said nothing, though; now wasn't a time to fight – and when he caught her slightly admonishing look, and shrugged a little, sheepish, she knew he didn't mean any harm.

"We worked on it all morning," Natalie said. "It's in mint condition," she bragged. "It can be driven back to the tri-state area. He said you can take his truck, and he can take the Charger. If that's okay."

Ah, so the prospect of another grueling road trip was a little daunting to him, too. Jenny folded her arms, smiling – she felt apprehensive, and a little – insecure. She chewed on the inside of her lip for a moment, before she decided to be neural about what was coming, and pre-empt it.

"I guess you want to ride back with him?" she asked, with a tone that she hoped implied she'd acquiesce.

Natalie looked down, and then up, squinting prettily in the sun.

"Actually…he has to make a stop," she began slowly. She took a deep breath. "And I think you and I need our own therapeutic road trip," she said honestly.

Jenny smiled at her earnestly. Natalie shrugged a little, and then smiled, stepping forward. Jenny seized her and put her arm around her, pulling her close. She kissed the side of her head affectionately, and then ran her hand over her faux-black hair.

Gibbs cleared his throat.

"Figured we can work out gettin' the truck back later," he said.

Jenny nodded – sure, they worked together, they had access to federal cars; it could be easy; as simple as her driving it, leaving it for him at the office garage, taking the metro home. It was a starting point for them working together.

Curious, she held his gaze a moment.

"What stop do you have to make?" she asked.

His jaw twitched tensely.

"My in-laws," he said heavily – it was partly a sense of duty, and partly Natalie, that had convinced him he couldn't neglect the Fieldings while he was in the area.

No matter how hard it was going to be, he needed to see them – he needed to share the grief with people who truly, closely understood; and eventually, he needed to let them go through their daughter's things, and help him sort through the belongings, too. He might even find the nerve, and the strength, to ask them to help him over Christmas – Jenny had quietly mentioned she thought she might see her mother for the holiday, and while he didn't object, he had no interest in another holiday alone.

Jenny stroked Natalie's hair again, and smiled at her. Natalie smiled back, and then lowered her gaze, and grinned at her father. She glanced back at Jackson, and then stepped towards him, giving him a hug and a kiss. He ruffled her hair, kissed her forehead, and nodded a gruff goodbye.

"You be good, kid," he advised wisely.

She nodded, and then turned to Gibbs. She looked at him silently for a moment, almost like she couldn't believe it, and then she stepped forward and hugged him; less intensely than she had at the river, but warmly; comfortingly.

He met Jenny's eyes over the top of her head, and Jenny smiled.

Natalie stepped back towards Jenny, hooking her thumbs in the loops of her jeans.

"So," she began lightly. "See you Friday night?" she asked.

She looked between her parents – it had been mentioned yesterday, in a long conversation – Natalie's desire to have some time, once a week, for herself and her relationship with her father; she had proposed Friday evenings, so she didn't have to worry about school the next day – starting small, an hour or two – it hadn't been set in stone yet.

Gibbs looked at Jenny, deferring to her, waiting; he was already game. He'd take anything and everything he could get, until he was as integrated into her life as he could be – as he always should have been, no matter what happened between himself and Jenny.

Jenny set her teeth, well aware it was a defining step to take, a big moment, but she made herself ready for it, and she glanced down at Natalie and gave a soft, accommodating nod; she had permission, and she had a blessing.

"Friday night," Jenny agreed.

Gibbs nodded.

"Friday night," he repeated gruffly, catching Natalie's eye, and giving her a charming, paternal wink.

Natalie gave both of them the biggest grin, and Jenny couldn't help but smile back – it was such a genuine smile, such a beautiful, happy smile, and she was so relieved that even after all this turmoil, Natalie could smile like that – and she looked up at Gibbs, and spotted the beginnings of a relieved smile on his face – a Gibbs smile, of course, nothing too expressive, but one she knew all the same – and in that moment, meeting his eyes, she silently, apprehensively hoped they could both keep that smile on Natalie's face.

* * *

"Baby who needs their faces in a magazine?  
Me and you, we been stars of the town since we were seventeen."  
Miranda Lambert; Famous in a Small Town

* * *

 _whoa, this was the BIG chapter !_  
 _there's a teeny time jump for chapter five_

 _[i hope you all enjoyed by reference to Luke pushing Jess into the river from Gilmore Girls, and my harry potter reference]_

 _feedback MUCH appreciated !_

 _-alexandra_


	5. Babies Makin' Babies

_a/n: well, here we are: the finale. i'm not sure how much y'all will like this chapter. truth be told, the story was really "over" with chapter four; this is just exposition and tying up loose ends. hope it makes you happy!_

* * *

Washington, D.C. Metro Area: 2000

Babies Makin' Babies

* * *

Outside the grand expanse of the airport, a small compact mirror glittered, reflecting sequins of light in the cool December sun. Leaning against the side of a vintage yellow-and-black Dodge Charger – _her_ vintage yellow-and-black Dodge Charger – with her hair swept into a carefully messy up-do, dark sunglasses, and red lipstick she'd borrowed from her mother, Natalie felt like a glamorous movie star – and she was milking it only _slightly_ as she checked her appearance in the small mirror.

She was eager to show off how much she'd changed – a small vanity, but one she felt she'd earned.

She was still basking in the thrill of being a licensed driver, with a car, whose parents – parents, _plural_ – allowed her a significant amount of freedom concerning said license and said car. In today's case, she was charged with chauffeur duty to the airport, her first solo foray into heavily trafficked interstates.

Natalie slipped her compact mirror into her coat pocket and blinked at the airport arrivals exit – any minute, her grandmother should appear, fresh off an American Airlines flight, with her step grandfather in tow, no doubt a little tips and hopefully in her usual bubbly mood.

Natalie was counting on Max and Melly – mostly Melly – to add a significant amount of levity to the planned festivities, because there was plenty of stress around already. This year, Natalie had succeeded in the ultimate feat: she had convinced everyone in her family that they should all take advantage of the progress made recently, and spend the holidays _together_.

She had proposed the idea in _September,_ she had tried to acclimate her mother to the idea for weeks, she had inveigled her father, enlisted her grandfather's help in persuasion, entreated, sweet-talked, manipulated – and finally gotten her way, with the caveat that Jenny, thinking it would never happen, had told her she'd invite everyone for Christmas if Natalie could convince Melly to come to the east coast in winter.

Jenny had vastly underestimated her own mother's interest in Gibbs, as all Natalie had really had to do was pick up the phone and slyly ask:

"Melly, you want to meet Dad?"

In the next week, Melly and Max had booked tickets for the holiday, and Jenny was left reconciling herself to the fact that she'd overplayed her hand, and was faced with the daunting prospect of a full house for Christmas. Natalie didn't think it was going to be so bad. Her mother's occasionally fatalistic way of thinking aside, the progress that had been made in the last year was monumental, and it was good progress, and Natalie felt the time was _right_.

She _deserved_ to have her whole family around her for Christmas.

She lifted her chin, smirking, as she spotted Max and Melly emerging from the baggage claim, standing thoughtfully on the edge of the curb. She lifted her fingers to her lips and blew a short, sharp whistle – something her father had taught her to do – and then she raised her hand and wiggled her fingers, pleased with the somewhat disarmed, taken aback look on their faces.

Whether it was the sight of her, the sight of the car, the sound of the whistle – or all of the above – Natalie reveled in their surprise.

She waved her hand a little more, nodding her head, and saw Melly's face break into a grin. She touched her husband's arm delicately, and then made her way across to the limited parking, stretching her arms out.

"Saint's alive!" she exclaimed theatrically.

The way she reached out and hugged Natalie was theatrical – and incredibly graceful – as well, and she gave her a right squeeze before stepping back, and touching her cheek lightly, her tan hand cool and comforting.

"Look at this," she sang lightly. She glanced at Max, and widened her eyes. "Look at her, my darling," she said to him, whipping back to Natalie. "My God, you can't be Natalie Gibbs," she said, almost whining, "I can't have a granddaughter who looks this grown up – who can drive," she lamented good-naturedly, her eyes sparkling.

Natalie grinned wildly and put her hand over Melly's, gently squeezing it before she slid it off her cheek, holding her grandmother's hand affectionately. She lifted her chin regally, and gave a little toss of her head, as if to confirm that it was really her – yes, she really looked like this; _too attractive for sixteen_ , as Jenny often muttered under her breath.

"Come on," she demurred, smirking. "You've seen pictures," she reminded Melly – she'd gotten Natalie's freshman class photo, as well as a couple throughout the year.

"It isn't the same," Melly murmured, shaking her hand loose and reaching out to touch Natalie's hair. "You're back to you," she remarked.

Natalie nodded proudly – the black dye had faded, messily and unevenly, but after a haircut, and then an effort to grow her hair back out, it was again long and a distinctly unique auburn – her mother told her it was _the_ most unnerving blend of Gibbs' younger shade and her own vibrant red she could have imagined.

So, naturally, Natalie loved it.

She peered over Melly's shoulder, and Max stepped up, grinning at her. Ever calm and collected, he leaned forward, resting his hand on his wife's lower back, and pressed a chaste kiss to Natalie's forehead.

"Good to see you again, Nat," he greeted warmly. He winked. "Merry Christmas."

" _Eve_ ," Natalie supplied, winking back.

She looked between them, taking a deep breath, and then reached into her bag and brought out her keys, jingling them – the little gold one for the ignition clinked against her collection of keychains, and she held the prized possession by a springy coil of plastic.

She arched her eyebrows at them wickedly.

"You guys ready to ride?"

"You're going to drive us?" Max asked good-naturedly, cocking one of his brows.

Natalie nodded proudly.

"I'm a godsend," she said smugly, quoting what her mother had told her earlier. Her original apprehension of letting Natalie go to the airport, by herself, in a stick shift – Jenny's fear of stick shifts seemed to stem from how long it had taken her to be able to drive one – had quickly evaporated when she realized how busy she was.

"I'm alleviating some of Mom's stress," she added dutifully.

"Good girl," Max said. He looked at his wife seriously. "Shotgun," he said.

Melly ignored him.

"Driver's choice, isn't it?" she asked Natalie. "You won't stick your flesh-and-blood in the back, will you? Not of that old thing?" she asked.

She looked with a small amount of amusement at the car, and reflected on Melly's face, Natalie saw a replica of the look Jenny usually gave the car – a mixture of interest, admiration, anxiety, and annoyance; it was old, but reliable – Gibbs had assured both Natalie and Jenny he'd never put Natalie in something he didn't trust. Melly, Natalie was sure, was most concerned about it being a coup – and having to do any uncouth climbing.

"Family isn't just DNA," Natalie chided warmly, giving Max a look – she thought of him as as much of a grandfather as Jasper had been, and as Jackson was. "That said," she continued dryly, "Max – "

He held up his hands, snorting.

"I'm not gonna fight her," he said. He prowled towards the car, examining it. "Bet it's roomier than a cockpit back there, anyhow," he blustered, preening his pilot feathers a bit.

"I'm not that tall, so sitting behind me is cozy," Natalie said, nodding.

She jingled her keys again eagerly, gesturing.

"Hop in!"

Max and Melly shared amused looks, and Natalie bounded around to her side, slipping into the seat that was fast becoming one of her favorite places on earth. Since bringing it back from Stillwater last year, she and Gibbs had steadfastly worked on it – driving it, making improvements, fortifying it, ensuring its safety – and he'd taught her to drive stick on his old truck, while Jenny handled teaching her to drive anything else.

Often, Jenny made the out of character remark that she was relieved ten-fold Gibbs was around to teach the driving, because she was an absolute wreck about it, and she made Natalie more nervous than was necessary. It was an out of character remark because – well, Jenny played her emotions close to the vest when it came to Gibbs, and if she ever outright stated she was relieved or delighted he was around, it was cause for surprise.

Natalie felt at home in this car; she was comfortable with it, it was cool – her classmates and friends definitely admired it – and it made her feel connected to her father, and her roots back in Stillwater – a solid, tangible symbol of the work that had gone into bringing Gibbs into the fold in the past year.

And what an up-and-down, eye-opening, invigorating, and thrillingly turbulent year it had been.

She revved up the engine with a smile at her passengers, and settled it, sliding the car easily into gear.

"Here's the plan," she said. "Mom's level of anxiety is increasing at a rate of approximately ten billion per hour, especially with all the cooking, so we're not going to go get in her way just yet," Natalie explained. "I'm staying at Dad's, so I'm taking you guys straight there, to meet him!"

She flicked her eyes at Max in the rearview, and then over to her grandmother quickly – _grandmother_ had always been an odd word to apply to Melly, Natalie thought briefly – and nodded emphatically, almost to herself.

"It's a decent way to stagger things so all of the major events don't happen at once – you meeting my father, Christmas, Christmas dinner, the New Year's Eve party," Natalie listed. She nodded, tapping her hand on the wheel. "So we're going to Dad's – in Alexandria."

"Good," Max snorted from the back. "Mel won't shut up about him."

"Can you blame me, darling?" Melly asked him blithely, giving a cinematic sigh. "It's simply occurred to me recently that it's absurd I've never met the father of my own grandchild," she remarked.

Natalie laughed. It had never seemed weird to her until she was actually inviting Melly, making arrangements, and actually point-blank realizing that even though Gibbs went as far back in Jenny's life as seventh grade, Melanie Danes had never met him. Not even _once_.

"It is strange," Natalie supplied.

"I suppose it reflects how uninvolved of a mother I was," Melanie remarked thoughtfully. "Never seeing Jenny except when she visited during summers – I did invite Gibbs to come with her, once," she said reflectively. "I offered to pay his way, I think, the summer Jenny was pregnant – or maybe the summer after you were born?" Melanie paused, and shrugged. "Ah, didn't work. There was some ridiculous arrangement with Jasper."

"There was?" Natalie asked, curious. "What was it?"

"Oh," Melanie said, waving her hand tensely. "He had that boy under such restrictive child support orders – well, at least Jennifer told me," she said, "he'd never have been able to take the time off work," she said. She shrugged. "It's too bad," she said abruptly. "He probably could have used the same carefree few weeks Jenny needed. An infusion of my," she drawled graciously, "lackadaisical parenting and upbeat carelessness might have saved them from themselves."

"Uh," Natalie said, arching a brow, "yeah, no offense, Melly, but I don't think anything was going to intervene with Mom back then."

It was something Natalie had come to accept, if not fully understand. More like, she accepted that she couldn't change it, and she might never wholly, fully understand it, and she didn't dwell on it.

Max snorted again, in the back, and Melly smiled, leaning back. She stretched her feet out a bit, looking around the interior of the car.

"It's clean, for such an old thing," she said.

"I have to keep it clean," Natalie said solemnly. "If I let it look like it's a homeless person's shack, I lose driving privileges."

"Sounds like Jenny," Max piped up.

Natalie caught his eye in the mirror, and nodded. Not that she was particularly messy anyway, but Jenny had a distinctly nitpicky side about her when it came to cars. She seemed to think the way they were kept up said a lot about the person driving them. Melanie opened a compact and began examining her lipstick. Natalie gave her an indulging look and smirked; Melanie glared at her.

"I want to make a good first impression," Melanie defended.

"Well, unless you're trying to sleep with him, I don't think the lipstick matters," Natalie joked dryly.

Max snorted loudly; Melanie turned and glared at him.

"You've got much too smart of a mouth for your own good," Melanie advised her granddaughter primly. "Now," she began, switching topics and sliding her lipstick and compact away. "What's all this about Jenny _cooking_?"

Natalie rolled her eyes good-naturedly, taking a moment of silence to merge onto the correct highway and start the traffic-infested drive to her father's house – Melanie had been told the plan a thousand times already, but as was the usual case with Melanie, she hadn't paid a lick of attention until the day was nearly upon her.

"Mom isn't actually a bad cook," Natalie said supportively. "I mean – I'm alive, aren't I?"

"I don't remember her cooking," snorted Melanie.

"Well, she didn't always have time, so it was sandwiches and simple things a lot," Natalie said amiably – with work, school, and motherhood, Jenny had obviously been extremely busy for a lot of Natalie's younger years. "But when she did cook, it was good. It wasn't grandiose or anything, but she's a perfectly able chef."

"Did she write that speech for you?" Max asked, with a small laugh.

Natalie grinned at him, and shrugged – no, Jenny hadn't, but she had told Natalie to talk her up so no one would run in fear. And Natalie was serious – Jenny wasn't a bad cook, and she wasn't sure where that reputation had come from. Maybe because she didn't spend every waking moments in the kitchen like women were apparently supposed to.

"Okay, okay – so she understands that she isn't exactly accustomed to being June Cleaver, or Ann Gibbs, as she puts it, so she enlisted the help of this guy Ducky, who works at NCIS with her – he's helping cook, and he's going to spend Christmas night dinner with us," she explained.

"He an agent?" Max asked.

"No, he's the pathologist," Natalie answered brightly.

"The pathologist is cooking us dinner?" Melanie asked dryly.

"Oh, just the stuffing, and the cranberry sauce, and the pie…" Natalie listed, trailing off with a smile. "He's a doll, Melly," she promised. "Very trustworthy. And he's making his mother's blood pudding, he says it's totally not as gross as it sounds and it's an English touch."

"Blood pudding's good," Max piped up seriously. "When I was stationed in England, it was like oxygen to me."

"Okay, um, I don't even think Ducky likes it that much, Max," Natalie snorted nicely. She straightened her shoulders. "So – at Christmas dinner, that's going to be you two, me, Mom, Ducky, Jackson Gibbs, and Dad," she listed. "Jackson's going home two days after Christmas, but we're having a New Year's Eve party at Dad's house, and you'll get to meet more of my people here."

"Your people?" Melanie asked, amused.

Natalie nodded eagerly.

"Like – Abby, the forensic scientist from NCIS is coming, and also my friend Tali and her boyfriend, Jess, and my friend Emily might show up, maybe, and Agent McClane, and Agent Pride," she listed. After a moment, she added. "And this Tim guy."

"What's a Tim guy?" Max asked immediately.

Natalie gave him a look.

"He's Mom's intern," she said.

"Why did you add him last?" Melanie asked astutely. "Is he _your_ Tim guy?"

"What exactly about my tone implied - ?!"

Melanie shrugged.

"The way you said 'Tim' is the way your mother used to say 'Jethro'."

"Ooh, speaking of my mother at my age," Natalie said primly, "I've been instructed to point out – brag really – that I'm sixteen and I don't have a baby."

Melanie made a show of clapping, extremely exaggeratedly.

"The subject hasn't changed," she told Natalie seriously.

Natalie laughed.

"No – seriously, Tim is Mom's intern," she said. "His father is on a carrier, and his mother and sister are stationed in Australia right now – he goes to MIT, so he's not really going to fly back, and we decided he shouldn't be alone."

"Is he cute?"

"I mean, he's not ugly."

"Is there mistletoe at the house?" Melanie probed.

Natalie groaned – she shouldn't have brought Tim McGee up – it really wasn't a thing! Nothing was – there wasn't a thing! He was just a boy, who –

"How old is he?" Max asked suddenly.

"He's – umm, he just turned nineteen," Natalie murmured.

"Oh, yeah," Max snorted. "Over Jenny's dead body."

Natalie ignored that – except, yeah, that was … pretty much exactly the situation. Sort of. But – Natalie didn't want to talk about that; Tim was a sweet person, and he gave her a lot of advice about MIT and applying to colleges and whatnot.

"You're sure Jennifer's okay with us staying at the house?" Max asked considerately.

Natalie nodded, her hair swinging.

"It works out – it gave everyone some wins, kind of," she explained. "Mom only has two bedrooms, but Dad has three so I'm staying with him, and Grandpa Jack. He's driving up here as we speak," She gave a small nod – in a way, it was Jenny allowing Gibbs to have 'Christmas with Natalie' – even though Christmas Eve she'd probably be at Jenny's late, and Christmas Morning they'd get up early to all go spend the day in Georgetown.

Still – it was extremely nice. Not the first time Natalie had stayed at her Father's by a long shot, but the first holiday situation. Last year, she and Jenny had gone to Tahiti with Melanie and Max for the winter holidays. Jackson Gibbs had come to D.C. for Thanksgiving, but they hadn't really spent it _together_. Thanksgiving this year had been spent at NCIS because a giant, terrible case tied everyone up and kept them working there – so Abby and Natalie did what they could to make it festive.

But _this_ Christmas – this big, family Christmas – had been Natalie's brainchild for half the year, and she was through the roof that it was actually happening.

"What about that Agent Franks fella you're always tellin' stories about?" Max asked. "Think I'd like to meet him."

Max was always eager to meet other service members and former service members – especially if they'd served in Viet Nam, like he had; Natalie suspected that's why he'd always gotten on so impeccably well with Jasper Shepard.

"Actually," Natalie said, her smile fading a little – she paused, both gathering her thoughts and taking the correct exit towards her father's neighborhood. "He, um, he quit NCIS – he's in Mexico, now."

"Uh-oh," Melanie trilled.

"Trouble?" Max asked.

"Not really?" Natalie said. She frowned. Her mother said Mike had quit; she'd heard from Tim that he'd quit upon being told he was going to be fired anyway – and it had quite a lot to do with the _increasingly_ fanatical focus he'd had on the foreign al-Qaeda king, Osama Bin Laden. Natalie wasn't sure why it was a bad thing for a federal agent to care about keeping tabs on a terrorist ringleader, but apparently he'd been harassing other agencies, devoting too much time to his vendetta, and overall getting on everyone's nerves – and they'd attributed it to old age, instability, and asked him to leave.

He'd left for Mexico, and never looked back.

The only slight upside to it was that Gibbs had received a promotion of sorts – Natalie's father was now second-in-command in the bullpen, and one space was open on the major crimes team. Natalie had a secret little fantasy that her mother would apply to be an agent in the next round, now that Natalie was older, and end up on the team.

Jenny, for one, kept telling Natalie to get a grip. She didn't _want_ to be an agent.

Natalie took a turn down her father's street, and as she slowed down, mindful of the speed limit, she glanced at her passengers again.

"Dad's dog looks really scary, but she's not, she's a sweetie. Bugsy," she reminded them – she was sure Melly had forgotten, but Max was well aware.

"Oh yes, the dog named after you," Melanie said pleasantly. "Well, I like dogs. They're very loyal."

"Bugsy is more than loyal," Natalie said seriously. "She's basically my familiar. My spirit animal. Besides Dad, she only listens to me."

"I'm sure your mother loves that," Melanie snorted.

Natalie turned down the last street to her father's house, and headed for the driveway.

"Mom is doing…well," she said, with a hint of pride in her tone.

And – it was true; Jenny really was. There had been somewhat of a – pause on things, after Natalie's Stillwater Shenanigans, as it was still called to this day, and everyone had taken time to recoup, rebuild trust and – figure out what was going to happen, exactly. But after that, once the dust of such an explosive reunion had settled, Jenny had kept true to her word.

And once a week, for almost exactly fifty-two weeks, Natalie had spent at least an hour at Gibbs' house on Friday nights. She spent time with him in other ways as well, of course – but specifically, that day was her day, and her time, and she never missed it, even if Gibbs was exhausted from a case, or even hard to talk to because of his demons; she was always there. And her determination bolstered the faith and the determination of both of her parents – and things were going well.

The whole summer had been eye-opening, progressive, more than cordial; they had all gone fishing once, and it had been one of the best weekends Natalie had ever had; they'd gone up to visit NASA again, in Maryland – even more exciting, since Natalie would be interning there come the Spring semester.

"It's been hard for her, you know," Melanie said suddenly, offering some insight – insight Natalie was not privy too. She expected Jenny used Melanie as more of a confident-slash-friend than a mother, so no doubt there was lots of gossip to be had there – not that Melanie's flightiness would necessarily translate into a betrayal of Jenny's confidence.

"I know," Natalie said, quieting down a bit.

She paused, thinking to herself for a moment – it had been hard; she was sure, for reasons she couldn't understand, and for reasons she could. But Jenny had kept her word, and she had interfered as little as possible – she'd become more accustomed to the change in their lives as things went on, even falling into an easy camaraderie with Gibbs – partly stemming from work, partly from old nostalgia.

At least – it had been like that for a bit, until recently, maybe before Natalie's birthday or around that time, when Jenny had become – odd, again. Standoffish, maybe. Natalie wondered if it was for the same old reason she'd always pushed Gibbs away in the past – simply that she really liked him, to put it in juvenile terms, and he didn't like her back.

Pulling into the drive, Natalie scrunched up her nose a little.

"Mom's been a little withdrawn around him lately," she remarked, killing the engine. She sat there for a minute, staring out the windshield at the house her father lived in.

There was a slightly festive sprinkling of modest Christmas lights adorning the windows and door.

Natalie's touch. His late wife's decorations.

She smiled a little, and shrugged.

"I don't know why she's being weird around him," she sighed. "It must be the stress of the holidays – you know, blending families."

Melanie laughed, musically. She was already half out of the car, clearly curious and eager to start the introductions. Pausing, she leaned back and put her hand on Natalie's shoulder, giving her a blithe, unconcerned smile.

"Oh, sweetie," she said mildly, "It's probably because they slept together."

Without a second thought, Melanie got out of the car, kicking the seat forward for Max to get out.

Natalie's mouth fell open slightly, and she stared, unblinking, even as Max climbed forward with a slightly annoyed, startled look on his face. Natalie caught his eye, and raised her eyebrows – was Melanie just being Melanie, always airy and whimsical, or did she actually know something - ? And if she had, why would she - ?

Max shook his head.

"I don't know why she said that," he remarked, climbing out of the car.

He shut the door, and after another moment of stunned immobility, Natalie yanked the keys from the ignition and sprang out of the vehicle, slamming the door loudly. She darted purposefully around the Charger, not about to let Melanie get to the door first – and trying to decide if she wanted to just ignore her little intuitive declaration, or pursue it clandestinely at a later date.

"Oh, Max, darling, it won't confuse her."

Natalie heard Melanie saying as she caught up.

"—totally unnecessary comment," Max muttered dryly.

Natalie started to ask if Melanie knew something she didn't – but instead, she turned to the door, and twisted the knob, swinging it wide open.

"Natalie," admonished Melanie, a bit taken aback. "Ring the bell or something."

Natalie looked at her, just as taken aback. She shrugged.

"Why?" she retorted. "It's my house."

She said it so naturally, with such comfort, that Melanie and Max shared a look – one that was surprised, sure, but also – somewhat happy. Natalie, for one thing, did consider this place to be a home of hers, especially since she'd spent more often hanging out there when no one was home in Georgetown, or staying weekends, or helping her father with the boat –

It was a comforting place; she walked in without warning all the time. The door was open to her. Gibbs had told her that repeatedly. She'd held him to his word.

"Dad?" she called.

Immediately, Bugsy dashed around a corner. Without blinking, Natalie put her hands on her shoulder, and Bugsy leapt up, putting her paws in that exact place and licking Natalie's cheek. She barked happily, and then bounced back down, trotting past to check out the newcomers.

"Bugsy," Natalie introduced dramatically. "My namesake – she's a sweetheart; she won't hurt you," she reminded them.

"'Course she won't," Max said gruffly, crouching down to rub the animal affectionately.

Melanie pursed her lips and gave Bugsy an admiring look. She lightly patted Bugsy's head, and that was about as much affection as she showed the dog – expectantly, she looked around; she was not waiting long, as they stood in the entrance of the living room, Gibbs came up the basement stairs, through the kitchen, and stepped towards Natalie, tucking a rag into the back pocket of his jeans.

Natalie smiled at him broadly, as Bugsy came to sit obediently at his feet. She wanted him to feel as comfortable as possible, and she moved towards him, touching his arm. He smiled at her, a small, hardly noticeable smile that he reserved only for her, and then he lifted is chin, eyeing his visitors mildly.

Melanie – he'd heard so much about Melanie over the years. It was hard to believe that, other than the barest few superficial phone conversations, he'd never met this woman; Jenny's mother, and someone so important to Natalie.

He gave a small nod of his head to her, and then to Max.

"Dad, this is Melanie," Natalie introduced, gesturing. "And her husband – Max Danes." Natalie paused, and then winked. "Air force," she whispered.

"Retired," Max said, reaching out for a handshake.

Gibbs responded immediately; the gesture from both men looked firm and friendly. Gibbs' lips turned up slightly: he considered it a good handshake. Max dropped his hand, slipping it into his coat pocket, and he gave Natalie a wink of approval.

Melanie, saving the best – herself – for last, stepped forward, extending her hand.

"We've talked," she announced dramatically, flashing a winning smile.

Gibbs nodded, taking her hand.

"I remember," he agreed dryly. Once, when he tried to arrange the meeting with Jenny, before he went to Quantico, and a couple of times when he'd been calling regularly, when Natalie was so very little that it had all gone over her head.

"It's nice to put a face to the voice," Melanie said. "A handsome face, at that," she said, lifting her chin – she studied Gibbs a moment, dropping his hand delicately. "Natalie has your eyes," she remarked simply.

Natalie preened, and her cheeks flushed.

Melanie tilted her head sharply, her eyes flickering.

"Interesting tattoo," she noted.

Gibbs looked down – it was barely visible from behind the short sleeve of the t-shirt he'd been working on, and he was surprised she'd noticed it; Natalie smirked a little – Melanie was often underestimated, and she not only knew it, but very slyly used it to her advantage.

She leaned forward.

"May I see it?" she asked.

Gibbs glanced at Natalie, and then lifted his sleeve slightly, saying nothing.

In black and white, the silhouette of a dolphin graved his upper bicep, appearing to curl its body around a fleur-de-lis positioned simply over the initials _K-A-G._ He exposed it fully for a moment, and then dropped his sleeve, his jaw tightening slightly.

Natalie inclined her head, speaking for him.

"It's for my sister," she said, catching Melanie's eye, and giving her a silently meaningful look: that wasn't going to be discussed now – Shannon and Kelly were something she could address with Jenny or Natalie, not Gibbs.

It didn't matter how much he was healing, how far he had come; he was sensitive about them. He kept them close, personal. He didn't let strangers in – and these people, Max and Melly, no matter how close they were to his daughter – were strangers to him, and in his house.

He cleared his throat, reaching up to rub his jaw.

"C'mon in, sit down," he offered, gesturing. "Either of you drink whiskey?" he asked, breaking the ice.

"I drink anything," Melanie said lightly.

"Bourbon?" Max asked.

Gibbs nodded, and Max gave him an appreciative nod. Gibbs turned to get them drinks, and Natalie followed him, on his heels much the same way Bugsy was. She dogged his footsteps into the kitchen, and then stopped him as he went to a cabinet, searching his face.

He paused, giving her a quizzical look – he was okay; he was perfectly capable of handling himself with her grandmother and Max, and he'd be okay making conversation, or listening while they talked, to get to know them, and entertain them until Jenny was okay to barge in on her in Georgetown for a while.

"Somethin' wrong?" Gibbs asked gruffly – perceptively.

"No," Natalie said lightly. "No, I – have you talked to Mom today?" she asked.

Gibbs shook his head simply, shrugged a little. He said nothing. Natalie nodded, wondering. She hesitated, and then she swallowed, shrugging right back. She gave him a good-natured look, and smiled hopefully.

"I should have warned you; tattoos interest her," Natalie said in a small voice.

He reached out and ruffled her hair a little.

"No problem, kid," he said quietly, reaching over to rub his arm – he'd gotten it in April, on Kelly's birthday; it made him feel better somehow, more like she was always with him. And it made him feel connected to his Marine past, too – Marines got tattoos, telling stories about their time in the service, their deployments. His told its own story.

Natalie bit her lip.

"This is all going to go – well, right?" she asked, pleading for reassurance.

Willing to give it, and despite a considerable, yet hidden, amount of wariness about the family-packed, high-stress holiday get together they had promised Natalie, hoping for the same thing, he nodded – and Natalie smiled at him, blue eyes sparkling in a way he'd come to relish, because it made him feel like he hadn't been such a failure to her after all.

* * *

The study could be called crowded or cozy; it depended on whom you were, and how well you thought the evening was going. For Natalie – considering no fights had started, and no tenseness had really arise, and definitely not swearing or name-calling had been provoked – she was prepared to confer the term 'cozy' on the study overall.

"Well, anyway," Melly was saying lightly. "Jennifer had left her home with me while she was at work, and I just had to go into the office – Emilio Estevez was throwing an absolute fit, so I took Natalie with me," here Melly paused, putting her hand out, "my job is extremely conducive to children – if the actors and actresses can drag their nannies, dogs, and children around, so can I," she said brightly, "and Natalie – lord, she was always so well-behaved – was in a mood that day, so I had asked her to sit quietly, but Emilio raised his voice at me once and she got up, marched across the room, and kicked him right in the back of the shins!"

Natalie flushed slightly, and saw her mother grin faintly – it was a go-to story for Melanie, primarily because it was one in which she could drop names and subtly brag about her job, but make it seem like she was cooing over her granddaughter. Natalie liked the story anyway. Emilio Estevez had apparently been calmed down by a tiny child's anger, and had picked her up. She had an autographed photo of him in _St. Elmo's Fire._

"Met lots of famous hot shots, did you Nat?" Jackson asked good-naturedly, smiling at her. He sat next to Max on the sofa, backs to the fire.

Natalie snorted.

"I don't remember most of it – but Elton John sang me _Candle in the Wind_ , once."

"Alright," Jenny held up one hand, "that story has gone from me telling Melly she can't take you to a party at Elton John's house to you claiming up that you stubbed your toe in his living room and he sang to you to calm you down," she said dryly.

"Well," Natalie retorted primly, "what's the real story?"

"The real story is that I told Melly she under no circumstances could take a toddler to a party at Elton John's house!"

"What's so wrong with Elton John?" goaded Natalie.

"Nothing is _wrong_ with Elton John," Jenny fired back, cocking an eyebrow, "but it was the eighties and it was a party."

Natalie looked around expectantly, and then caught her father's eye. Gibbs shrugged a little.

"Drugs," he said taking a drink of the glass of whiskey that had been provided for him - -everyone else had eggnog; Gibbs had refused the sugary drink and settled on his usual, while Natalie had a mug of hot chocolate that no adult, not even flighty, fun Melanie, had allowed her to spike – not even with Bailey's!

"Did you ever do any drugs, Melly?" Natalie asked brightly.

Melanie looked at her, startled. Max laughed. Loudly. Melanie slapped his arm, hard.

"I don't think we need to discuss anyone's drug use," Jenny said hastily, arching her eyebrow.

"You should have let me go. I bet Elton John doesn't do drugs. No one who composed music for _The Lion King_ does drugs," Natalie said primly.

"A movie about singing Savannah animals with Hamlet complexes?" Jenny retorted neatly. "You have a lot to learn, Bug," she snorted.

Natalie grinned, and lifted her mug to her lips. She took a sip, and then nodded her head, jiggling her foot slightly at everyone in turn.

"Go on, continue regaling each other with stories of my adorable childhood," she encouraged. "Everyone," she said, gesturing between them all with one free hand, "has blanks to fill in."

Jackson Gibbs snorted, amused.

"Subtle, that one," he said, winking at Natalie.

Natalie gave him a mock-stern look.

"We no longer hide anything in this family," she told him seriously.

Jackson just winked at her again.

Gibbs sat forward a little, elbows on his knees. He nudged Natalie with his shoulder – she sat next to him, perched on the edge of a couch arm. She looked down at the nudge, and he smirked at her. She felt it was encouraging, and she breathed a little easier.

Things had been – hectic, but they had gone well. Natalie had spent Christmas Eve at her father's house, with Jackson and Jethro, and they'd all gotten up to join Melly, Max, and Jenny at the brownstone on Christmas morning. Having them all together would have been a nice enough gift for Natalie, but she wasn't exactly displeased that she'd also gotten _really_ good presents from everyone.

She didn't get a cat, because apparently her mother thought her request for one was a _joke,_ but she got a lot of books, and NASA related stuff, and all kinds of – little things, and meaningful things, that made her happy. And to add to that – the day had just gone well. Dinner had gone well, to her mother's absolute relief, and the fact that they were all still sitting around reminiscing was a testament to the fact that Natalie's plan hadn't been such a potential disaster after all.

It helped that Melly, incredibly sociable and glib, filled any awkward silences and deftly directed conversation; that was the public relations expert in her. Though in all honesty, she wasn't needed too very much – it wasn't that Natalie's mother and father couldn't get alone, they'd been doing it for a year now, and fluidly, to her knowledge; the problem was having Jackson and Melly around, having everyone together, and putting into the spotlight how things had been for such a long time.

"Now – listen, Jethro," Melanie began lightly. "Have you heard the stories about Natalie getting her tonsils out? I'm sure you know she got them out – "

Gibbs nodded; Natalie had told him.

" – well, excellent; but did you know that she trapped one poor doctor in her room and strained her little voice asking him medical questions about anesthesia – "

As the story continued on, Natalie noticed her mother quietly get up and slip out of the room. Jackson, rapt in the story, and Max, always focused on Melly, didn't pay it any mind; however, Natalie did notice her father give the retreating Jenny a sharp, enigmatic look. Natalie kind of liked that he seemed concerned.

She waited a moment, thinking about the absence hesitantly, and then she got up delicately.

"Does, um, anyone need another drink?" she asked politely, hoping not to draw too much attention to Jenny's retreat – her mother had looked a little dejected, or perhaps – sad? Natalie wasn't sure how to pinpoint her expression.

A chorus of 'no' greeted her, and Natalie took that chance to slip out towards the kitchen, clearly under the pretense of retrieving her own refill. Her hot chocolate was half full, but it could stand to be heated up a little. And she could pretend she was pestering her mother for some Bailey's. Not that Natalie was particularly interested in drinking – she just wanted to be part of the fun.

In the kitchen, water was running at about half pressure, and Jenny was standing before the sink, long hair tucked behind her ears. She had yellow gloves on, and her wrists deep in steaming water, rinsing of dishes and shaking them off a little before setting them aside for the dishwasher.

Natalie sauntered over with her mug and situated herself in the nook where the sink side of the counter hit another side of the counter. She leaned into the little corner and peered over her mug at her mother, silently watching her focus on the dishes for a moment.

"Mommy," she whispered primly, mimicking a little girl's voice. "Why are you hiding?"

Jenny shrugged, shook her head a little.

"Not hiding," she said simply. "I'm getting a start on these dishes." She paused, setting aside another one. "I have a feeling we'll all be exhausted later, and I don't want to wake up to them tomorrow."

"That's extremely logical," Natalie said blithely. "Also: you're hiding."

Jenny rolled her eyes, her lips turning up slightly, and didn't say anything else. Natalie tapped her tail on her mug for a moment, and tilted her head.

"Mom, really, are you okay?" she asked gently.

"Yes, Natalie," Jenny answered.

She fell silent again, putting aside another dish.

"What's wrong?" Natalie pushed anyway.

Jenny hesitated – it wasn't that anything was wrong. She was just – overwhelmed. She needed space, she needed to be alone. She wasn't use to this kind of thing. Everyone together – her whole family, extended, immediate, etc. in her house was eerie to her, it was strikingly strange, and sitting in there was making her feel – well, guilty; the more people talked about Natalie to Gibbs, in front of her, the worse she started to feel.

She'd thought she was kind of getting over that – and Gibbs certainly took very specific pains not to make her feel that way – but Natalie and Gibbs catching up by themselves, or being with her alone, was not the same as her having to confront, directly, the millions of little things she'd taken away from Gibbs over the years.

It didn't really matter that they'd both come to terms with their own faults and parts in the lost years, and that he'd admitted it hadn't been just her, she accepted a fair share of the blame, and she often could handle being in such close confrontation with it.

"I'm okay, Natalie," she said, pausing, choosing to be honest. "I just needed a minute away from all that," she said, gesturing her rubber glove clad hand at the door. "It makes me feel," she hesitated, "bad," she finished simply.

Natalie frowned, sympathetic.

"No one's in there talking about my childhood to shame you," she said confidently.

"I know," Jenny said very simply. She shrugged a little, leaning against the sink a moment, before picking up another plate. "I feel like I'm letting them rub it in his face, that he wasn't there."

"Well, Dad doesn't feel like that," Natalie said flatly. "He wants to hear the stories."

"Is that what you guys do, at Friday night dinners?" Jenny asked, her eyes on the dishes, the soapy water.

She never pried into their time alone together. She did it out of respect, and out of a promise to herself not to seem like she was attempting to control the conversation or insert herself into every aspect of their burgeoning, repairing relationship. She knew they worked on the boat, or the car; sometimes Natalie hung out at NCIS when Gibbs was on shift – Gibbs came to school events, and he sat with Jenny when he did; Jenny easily introduced him as Natalie's father to her other friends, and other parents, without offering explanation and without being abashed about it – et cetera, et cetera.

It was like being divorced – except instead of slowly extricating themselves from a life together, they were slowly blending theirs.

"I talk about myself a lot," Natalie allowed carefully. "Sometimes we talk about him. Sometimes he talks about Kelly."

"Hmmm," Jenny murmured quietly.

"He got that tattoo on a Friday night," Natalie remarked.

"I thought so," Jenny said, thinking of the dolphin on Gibbs' bicep. She liked it. She thought it was sweet, an excellent way to keep Kelly close, even if Franks had mocked him ceaselessly for getting a dolphin inked on his body.

"He was going to let me get a tattoo but – "

"He was _not_ ," Jenny interrupted, slightly panicked. "No he wasn't. You're lying," she accused.

"Yeah," Natalie snorted. "Duh."

"Don't do that, Natalie," Jenny sighed, giving her a glare. "Don't make me think he's a bad boy or – "

"Oh, come on," Natalie scoffed. "Get real, Mom. By now you should know he's worse than you are," she snorted fondly.

Jenny paused a little, tilting her head – granted, what Natalie said was true: Gibbs' mixture of paranoid fear that Natalie would be hurt or killed somehow, and brash, stereotypical male behavior over a teenage daughter often resulted in him throwing silent but comical fuming fits.

"I honestly thought he was going to kill Jess at the spring science fair," Natalie remembered gleefully.

Gibbs – not knowing that Jess was Tali's boyfriend, and had no romantic interest in his daughter at all, had seen him come up behind Natalie and whisper something in her ear. He'd grabbed him by the back of his leather jacket and physically lifted him away from her, snarling something about personal space.

Natalie's high-pitched annoyance had been contradicted by Jenny's laughter; the one time their roles were reversed.

"Well, at least he terrified the last bit of delinquency out of Jess," Jenny snorted.

It was true – Jess had slowly, under Natalie's influence, become less of a problem and more of promising human, to the point where he'd spent his summer tutoring at-risk kids in the public school system. He had, understandably, a special way with unruly or trouble-making kids. Natalie said that some time after meeting her dad, he'd shown a lot less interest in being a little prick.

Jenny surely noticed it, even if Jess's own mother didn't, and barely had anything to do with him.

"You go back in there, Nat," Jenny said encouragingly. She shrugged. "I'll be back in a minute," she assured her.

Natalie hesitated, torn.

"I feel like you're having a bad Christmas," she confessed.

Jenny turned to her, drawing her hands from the water a little. She shook her head seriously, her lips pursing.

"I'm not having a bad Christmas," she said genuinely. She shook her head again, for emphasis. "I just needed a break, Natalie, really," she said. She lifted one shoulder. "I'm sitting in there wondering if this is how it could have been all those years, and that's hard. And then it's twice as hard, because I feel selfish for thinking that way, because it feels like wishing away Shannon and Kelly," she admitted quietly.

She wasn't keen on divulging her insecurities and secrets to Natalie, simply because she didn't think it was something a mother should do, but she also wanted to make sure Natalie understood that she didn't resent her for putting together this family event, and she did think it was a good idea – and it was going well; so well.

"I missed you last night," Jenny said honestly, smiling.

Never before had Natalie been gone, out of her care, on Christmas Eve. And even though she was just in Alexandria, with her father, it had been difficult not to have here there by the fire, watching movies or listening to Christmas music. She sincerely hoped Jethro enjoyed it, though. She was sure Christmases for him, since losing Kelly, must have been beyond unbearable.

"I missed you, too," Natalie said – and she meant it. Christmas Eve without her mom had been weird, a new experience. But she'd had a good time at her father's house, with him and Jackson. Slyly, Natalie arched her brows. "To avoid future holiday issues, we could all move in together."

The look of abject terror that graced Jenny's face was enough to send Natalie into peals of laughter, which immediately did Jenny the favor of letting her know it was a mere joke.

"Oh, jeez, _Mother_ ," Natalie snorted. "It wouldn't be that bad."

Jenny smiled faintly, and knit her brows, turning back to the dishes. Natalie turned, put her mug in the microwave, and chose a few buttons to heat it up properly.

"Are you sure I can't have any Bailey's?" she asked.

"No."

"You're not sure?"

"I'm sure you _can't."_

"Hmm," Natalie sighed, puckering her lip sweetly.

"Alcohol isn't good," Jenny bluffed seriously.

Natalie snorted.

"Oh, oh – okay, Mom. That's why you drank so many margaritas on the Fourth of July. That's why. Because it was terrible. That's why you had such a good time. I get it."

Jenny flushed slightly, ignoring her. She cleared her throat.

"Well, darling," she began, affecting Melanie's usual tone, "when you spend all your life raising a child with saint-like self-control, and you only ever drink a glass of wine once in a while, you forget you never learned how to drink."

Natalie gave another very unladylike snort.

"I'm just glad Dad saw it," she taunted.

Jenny muttered something under her breath – it really hadn't been that bad; it's not like she'd gotten totally soused with her teenage daughter around – they'd been at he fireworks on the capitol lawn, was all, and after more high-spirited chatter than usual, Jenny had just fallen asleep through the light show and point-blank refused to wake up and walk to the car after.

So, Gibbs had – gently – sort of dragged her alone like she had a sprained ankle. At which point she woke up and snapped at him for manhandling her.

"That was my favorite night ever," Natalie sighed. "It was like having real parents."

Jenny winced.

"Ouch, kiddo," she said dully.

Natalie's smile faded a little.

"I didn't mean that how it sounded," she said, frowning apologetically.

Jenny shrugged a little. She nodded, and gave her daughter a small smile – she knew what she meant. She felt like they'd always been together; the fourth had been good, a nice, wholesome holiday spent together. After Gibbs had dropped Jenny off in Natalie's amused care, he'd had to go into work – but all the same, it was a pleasant memory.

And it was one of the last times she, Natalie, and Gibbs had all been together and spent time as a family, in a normal, cohesive way, before things had gotten a bit… _hinky_ …between Jethro and Jenny. Something Natalie, thankfully, hadn't sensed.

"Mom, can I ask you something personal?" Natalie asked, right as the microwave beeped, finished warming her hot cocoa.

Natalie ignored it.

Jenny scrubbed something with a sponge, considering it a moment.

"Yes," she answered finally, treading carefully.

"It's _really_ personal," Natalie went on.

Jenny turned to look at her, a little worried, her curiosity piqued.

"Is it about sex?" she asked matter-of-factly.

Natalie nodded.

"Oh, Natalie," Jenny sighed softly. "You're going to do this to me now, with your father here, with everyone here – I hope you haven't done anything – "

"Um."

"—yet, because I wanted to talk first, not after – "

" _Um_ , excuse me," Natalie broke in loudly. "It's not about sex concerning me," she said, recoiling, appalled. "I'm _only_ sixteen."

Jenny gave her a baleful look. Natalie grinned charmingly. Turning back to the dishes, her brow furrowed, Jenny shook her head a little, the panic in her subsiding. She didn't know what she'd thought, really, but she knew she wasn't quite as prepared to handle it as she wanted herself to be – she liked Natalie being uninterested in boys or dating – she liked not having to even think about worrying about Natalie and sex.

"Did you – did you sleep with Dad?" Natalie asked.

The question shattered Jenny's silent, motherly reverie, and she nearly dropped a dish on the floor, she was so taken aback. She turned to Natalie, blinking sharply; her lips parted, and then narrowed her eyes in a glare. Pointedly rinsing off the dish, she set it aside, rather loudly.

"Of course I did," she said stiffly. "How the hell do you think you got here?"

Natalie stared at her with such a dubious expression that Jenny almost laughed at her own deliberately dense response.

"I kind of meant more recently than that," Natalie retorted dryly.

Jenny said nothing. She gave a non-committal shrug – which was a huge mistake, Natalie pounced on it, her eyes narrow and sharp.

"Mom, did you?" she prodded seriously, her voice low. "Melanie insinuated that might be why you were acting – strange, around him lately."

"Of course she did," muttered Jenny nastily.

Her mother was as loose-lipped as a high school cheerleader, but unfortunately she was as perceptive as a wizened old gypsy. Jenny hadn't actually said anything to her, but Melanie had years of experience with sex and attitudes about it.

Natalie reached out and poked Jenny's elbow.

"Your hot cocoa is going to get cool again," Jenny said pointedly.

"You said I could ask."

"That's before I knew what the question was."

"Mom," Natalie sighed quietly – maturely, she thought.

Jenny grit her teeth, frustrated; torn between transparency with her daughter and guarding her private life, especially if it might complicate Natalie's relationship with her father. Jenny had no intention of ever doing that again – complicating things – therefore she didn't want to get hopes up, or ruin anything, or –

She sighed, putting aside another plate.

"Define recently," she said grudgingly.

"Within the last month," Natalie said promptly.

"Nope," Jenny said firmly, slightly satisfied.

Natalie narrowed her eyes.

"Anywhere from Halloween to now," she tried.

" _Nope_ ," Jenny reiterated, truthfully.

Natalie stepped obnoxiously close and nearly touched her nose to Jenny's cheek, hissing at her suspiciously:

"Did you sleep with him when I went to my weekend orientation at NASA?" she demanded intuitively – that had been the week _before_ Halloween.

Natalie had been gone all weekend, and as she wracked her brains now, she tried to discern just when her mother's – and come to think of it, her father's – shady, _cordial_ behavior had begun.

Jenny flinched away from Natalie's proximity, and loudly placed a plate in the drying rack. She didn't look at her daughter, but she didn't deny it. She didn't necessarily vocally confirm it, either, but Natalie read her well.

"What does that mean, Mom?" Natalie asked, exasperated – and she didn't ask what Jenny's silence meant; she astutely asked what the physical – incident – meant.

After a moment, she spoke very clearly, and firmly:

"It doesn't mean anything for you, Natalie." She looked up, meeting Natalie's eyes honestly. "Nothing that happens personally between me and your father is going to disrupt you being around him."

Nervously Natalie began –

"Last time – "

Jenny just shook her head, very seriously.

"We aren't teenagers anymore," she said frankly. She was quiet a moment, and then she slipped off the gloves, and turned, putting one hand on her hip, and tapping her fingers on the counter. "It's okay, Natalie," she soothed honestly. She nodded. "Everything is okay. You don't need to be worrying about this." She frowned slightly. "Melly should not have put that bug in your ear."

Natalie folded her arms across herself, looking at her mother critically.

"Are you okay?" she asked again, for different reasons than she had when she sought her mother out.

Jenny smiled at her.

"I'm fine," she assured her, braver than she felt.

"So – are you guys, um," Natalie stammered uncertainly. "Did it just happen and you ignored it, or were you drinking – are you dating – " she began rapidly.

Jenny held up her hand, stopping her.

"There are a lot of things you have always had a right to know about your dad," she said gently. She shook her head. "This isn't one, Nat," she told her frankly. "I am allowed to have a personal life."

"If it's going to affect – "

"It's not," Jenny said flatly. "If the only thing you've noticed is that I'm more reserved, there's really no issue."

Natalie bit her lip – that was fair. Nothing had changed. Jenny hadn't suddenly decided to revoke Gibbs' privileges, she hadn't started being petty, or nasty; she hadn't said anything out of the ordinary about him or tried to turn Natalie against him.

Truth be told, Natalie wasn't sure she cared to get into it. It seemed very adult. Like something she didn't really understand. She didn't think she needed to understand right now, as long as things could remain as they were – and Jenny was indicating they would.

"Well, I don't want you to get hurt," Natalie said, harrumphing a little testily.

Jenny surprised her; she laughed, a genuinely smile lighting up her eyes.

"Ah, how the tables have turned," she drawled dramatically.

She leaned forward, and in a graceful motion, reached over Natalie's shoulder and pulled the hot chocolate mug from the microwave, leaning back, handing it to he, and brushing her temple with a kiss in one fell swoop. Natalie beamed at the affection, and Jenny stroked her hair back, giving her a comforting look.

"I'm glad your holiday wish is working out," she said sincerely, squeezing her shoulder.

"Oh, me too," Natalie gushed brightly. "New Year's is going to be better; I can't wait to see how Melly and Abby interact," she said wickedly.

"I hope Jethro really is okay with everyone at his house," Jenny said.

"I am."

Both of them turned to find him in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. It was clear he'd just walked up, only caught the tail end; still, considering what the topic had been moments before, Jenny flushed a little. Natalie arched an eyebrow and looked at him earnestly. He hesitated a moment, and stepped forward.

"'M gonna head out, Bug," he said a little hoarsely.

Her face fell a little – it was late-ish, they had eaten dinner over two hours ago, but it wasn't – late late, at least she didn't think. She hoped he didn't feel neglected because she'd been in here all cozy with her mother. She hadn't meant it to feel like that.

He saw the look on his face, and held up his hand.

"Got nothin' to do with you," he said quickly, nodding his head towards the study, "or all this. This's been…good," he said honestly, and Natalie gave him a relieved smile. He cleared his throat. "Got to make a call to the Fieldings," he said.

"Oh," Natalie said softly.

Part of her sensed he was feeling a little suffocated, too, and she realized maybe her parents had their own reasons for that sort of thing.

"Figured you'd want some of the holiday for just you'n'her," he added, speaking to Jenny and nodding at Natalie.

Jenny hesitated, his words hitting her in an odd way. While in the past year, she'd often fretted and agonized over how much time Natalie was getting alone with Gibbs versus how much she was still spending with Jenny, and how equal it was – all that nonsense – currently, standing here, she felt it was wrong that she cared about that, or that Gibbs made an effort to see to it he wasn't always around.

They shouldn't be competing for their daughter's affections or time; they should be enjoying her together.

A wistful smile touched her lips – that's how family _should_ be.

So, she shook her head.

"You can stay as long as you like," she said simply.

Natalie came forward, handing off her mug to her mother. She put her arms around Gibbs and hugged him, squeezing him tightly. Her hand rested over the tattoo that honored Kelly; perceptively, she understood that as grateful as he was to spend the day with her, and to have her, he needed some time alone to grieve another holiday passed without his other little girl. Natalie had experienced – sensed it – before, and she was past feeling threatened by it.

The other times he had withdrawn, he had always still been there for her on Fridays, and whenever else she needed or wanted him, so she'd come to understand it wasn't about him wishing she was Kelly, it was just about him missing people he loved.

Like she missed Kate. Like her missing Kate never made her dislike Ziva, or wish her mother never had any other friends.

"Thank you for my gifts," Natalie said, drawing back. She beamed – he'd gotten her several things, the best of which was the newest release of the first three _Star Wars_ movies, special anniversary edition VHS – the one that came with the gold tin.

His attention to detail when it came to Natalie's science fiction loves was impeccable; where Jenny often got confused concerning _Star Trek_ versus _Star Wars_ , or _Harry Potter_ versus _Lord of the Rings_ , Gibbs seemed to be able to differentiate them easily. Even if he often referred to them the same way Jenny did.

It frequently enraged her that both of her parents had been children when the movies were in theatres, and yet weren't fans.

" _In my defense," Jenny had said once, grudgingly, "in eighty-three, I was busy getting knocked up."_

" _We almost named Kelly Leia," Gibbs had said another time, trying to earn points._

Natalie snickered at the memory, and beamed at her father. He smiled back, tousled her hair a little, and looked up to give Jenny a quick, amicable nod. She nodded back. Natalie rolled her eyes a little – she was going to have to investigate their little NASA-weekend tryst a little.

She'd have to do it later.

"Thanks for mine," Gibbs returned gruffly.

She'd given him a new pocket knife, and a NASA sweatshirt. He was going to have to represent another 'N' agency, considering her upcoming educational pans – and boy, was the new year going to be a change in that department.

"See you Friday," she said, as always, "and Sunday," she added brilliantly – Sunday was the New Year's Eve party at his home.

He kissed her forehead, and gave another goodbye nod to Jenny, and then in the hall, he got his coat, waiting slightly impatiently for Jackson to join him – Jackson took his time, evidently annoyed at his some; sometimes it made Natalie sad that Jackson didn't seem to understand Gibbs very well, even after all these years and all this drama.

"Natalie," Jenny said pleasantly, listening to the door open. "Your hot chocolate is cold again."

Natalie turned, and dashed over to tend to it again, a grin touching her lips – she deemed Christmas a success, and there was only a week and one more holiday to go as far as testing their togetherness, and seeing if things were going to continue to go well.

* * *

Seated in the break room at NCIS, Natalie had schoolwork spread out in front of her – assignments she had decided to leave for the interim holiday lull between Christmas and New Year's. Since her parents had chosen not to take any time off – both of them preferring to maniacally hoard personal and sick days unless an absolute and inarguable emergency came up - and Max and Melly had taken off to do some sight seeing, she had chosen to set herself up at NCIS, half because she was familiar with it, half because she frequently gleaned information about college off of Timothy McGee.

NCIS was a good place to study, regardless, but it was especially good now because everyone was pretty much on vacation, except the absolutely essential personnel and people whose family all lived so close it wasn't really necessary to take days for travel and leisure.

Currently, Natalie was ignoring a literary analysis on Dostoevsky's _Crime & Punishment_ while she chatted with McGee in the cheerfully decorated little alcove – decorated, naturally, by Abby, NCIS's resident Christmas fairy.

"I liked _The Brothers Karamazov_ better," Tim was saying seriously.

"Honestly, the less Russian Lit I have to suffer through, the better," Natalie said, pursing her lips seriously. "Give me Dumas or Hawthorne or – "

"Rowling?" supplied Tim slyly.

"Rowling," Natalie agreed, with a very serious nod. "Speaking of, did you hear they're coming out with a movie?" she asked.

"Yeah, they're gonna make all seven," Tim answered. "I heard she only sold the rights if they promised to cast British actors, _no_ Americans."

"You know who should play Professor Snape?" Natalie asked.

"Who?"

"Alan Rickman," she said, matter-of-fact.

" _Who_?" Tim repeated.

"Alan Rickman," Natalie said. "He's in _Die Hard._ He plays the bad guy."

"And he's a good Snape why?"

"I don't know, he plays a really convincing bad guy," Natalie laughed.

"I don't think Snape is a bad guy," McGee said solemnly. "Dumbledore trusts him."

"Um, pretty sure Gandalf trusted Saruman."

"That's totally different…there's something about Snape – don't you want to know what the big reason he left the Death Eaters is?"

Natalie gave a huge roll of her eyes.

"It's probably because he loved Lily Potter or something dumb like that – let's talk about something else," she said, switching gears.

"Okay," Tim said, amused. "What?"

"Are you still coming to New Year's?"

He nodded.

"My mom is a totally different person outside of work, so that will be fun for you," Natalie said conversationally. "And – by the way, how likely is it that I can apply to MIT without her knowing?"

Tim blinked, a little caught off guard by the bait and switch. He tilted his head, and then smirked a little.

"Well, you're not eighteen yet, right?"

"Sixteen."

"Unlikely," Tim snorted. "See, she'd have to sign certain things for you, to make it legally binding. And unless you can forge her signature on the application fee check – " he trailed off, as Natalie frowned, shaking her head. "I thought you weren't graduating early?" he said, picking up.

"I'm not," Natalie said. "Not technically – I just want to see if I can get in, but I don't want Mom to go in one of her suspicious panic modes and call a family meeting."

McGee grinned. He sat back in his chair, opening the soda he'd brought with him – he was supposed to be back from lunch break an hour ago, but Natalie had distracted him – and usually, if Jenny was busy, she didn't notice when he wasn't there. Of course, she'd started noticing more lately because she'd figured out he was hanging around her daughter. He had Natalie to thank for having a place to celebrate the New Year in a few days.

"You'd get in," Tim said.

"Don't kiss my ass, McGee," Natalie threatened.

"I'm not!" he said, a little edgy, his eyes widening. "You would! MIT eats up people like you – women, smart, going to a place like TJ," he listed. "I got in from TJ with the same creds as you," he pointed out. "You'd be a cooler diversity statistic."

"It's so nice of places to make up for hundreds of years of oppression by letting women do things based on quotas instead of merit," Natalie said brightly.

"That was sarcastic, wasn't it?"

"Ya think, Tim?" she said coolly. "I don't believe in quotas and helping hands."

He flushed a little, and shrugged.

"You'd do well at MIT," he said. "But I thought you said you might look at Cal Tech, or Harvard?"

"I still might look at Harvard," Natalie said. "But – Cal Tech…I love California, but with my dad back in my life, and whatnot…I don't want to move across the country again, you know? If I told my mother that, she'd flip, thinking I was basing decisions on him and not what's best for me – but that is what's best for me," Natalie went on conversationally. "I missed out on a lot, and there are a lot of amazing colleges in this area, so why go to California?" she asked.

"Cal tech has a science program that lets you go to CERN for a summer," McGee pointed out.

"I could easily choose to do a semester in Switzerland and study at CERN," Natalie fired back, slightly over-confident.

McGee grinned. His brow furrowed.

"Aren't you working at NASA this year, anyway?"

"Oh," Natalie blushed a little. "You – heard about that?"

She'd actually been keeping it under wraps – she'd ben tentatively accepted into a program with her favorite government entity, but it was the weekend in October, at NASA headquarters in Greenbelt, Maryland that had been a big moment: it was a finalist weekend, kind of like a camp, but also interviews and competitions – so the only people who knew she was in the running for the co-op program were her closest family members, up until – recently.

Because the day before her birthday, she'd found out she was accepted as a fellow, and even though she'd been excited – shouting it to the rooftops felt like bragging, or even jinxing it.

"Your mom told me," Tim said plainly. He paused a moment, and then he smirked. "Your mom told everyone," he added, snorting a little. "She told Charleston twice."

Natalie flushed again, pleased.

"Well, um," she began. "Yeah, starting in the spring – well, the spring semester, so in January, I'll be doing NASA's Co-op-Internship program," she announced, a little shyly. "So, I actually _won't_ be in school, technically."

She tried not to show it too much – she was still a little star struck and afraid of jinxing it – but she was excited; beyond excited.

"How does it work, though?" Tim asked. " I never did a Co-op."

He'd just left Thomas Jefferson in a year and a half, and gone on to MIT.

"It's a year-long Co-op program," Natalie began, leaning forward and splaying her palms out matter-of-factly. "But it's split up, so it doesn't overshadow my schooling. So in January, I start part one, and I spend all my time – five days a week, eight hours a day, like school – at Goddard Space Flight Center, working in different departments with NASA, figuring out what I'm good with, all that," she waved her hand, "and then, one summer – I can pick this upcoming one, or the next – I go down to Florida, to NASA headquarters there, for _four_ weeks, and then I do another semester working at Goddard!"

Tim smiled at her, genuinely please – Natalie talked about NASA all the time. And when Natalie wasn't talking about NASA, Jenny was talking about Natalie loving NASA. She grinned back, her eyes glittering.

"When it's all said and done, I'll graduate high school in three years, because of the two semesters off," she said. "But I'll be graduating with my class in two thousand and three."

"So, in a way, you're getting what you wanted – graduating early," Tim said.

"In a way," Natalie agreed.

In the many debates Natalie had with Jenny over graduating early, Jenny had always been reluctant to concede; the final compromise was that Jenny was okay with Natalie graduating high school early, but she was not allowed to go off to college until she was eighteen. Jenny wouldn't even concede somewhere close, like Georgetown or George Washington – her stipulation for graduating early was that Natalie had to get a job, or an internship; that she was allowed to take classes at a community college, a language for example, but she wasn't going to go be in college until she was of the proper, legal adult age to be there.

It was the same philosophy that had kept Jenny from catapulting Natalie into fifth grade when her second grade teacher had given her several grade-skip options: she did not want her daughter rushing her childhood or her life, and she did not want her daughter in any situations that she was too young too handle, no matter how smart she was.

"My mom kind made me ask myself if I wanted to graduate early for the right reasons," Natalie ventured. "Like, she asked me if it was because I didn't fit in, and I'm bored, and I don't have any friends or things to do, or if it's because I want to look good and am trying to prove myself. And I like my friends at TJ, and I'm happy at home. So I guess I did just want to look really impressive," she paused, and then smirked brilliantly. "It'd still be cool to say I got into MIT at sixteen."

"Yeah," McGee gloated, preening a little. "It's pretty cool."

He tapped his fingers on the table a moment, and then looked at Natalie sideways.

"Want to know something, though?" he asked.

She nodded – she valued Tim's insight; he'd told her so many things about MIT, and what colleges he'd applied to, and what the interview process and essay writing process was like. Natalie went to school with geniuses, but McGee was her caliber of genius, and he was interning with a federal agency at seventeen, so she talked to him about that, too.

And, he was cool. He was like, the kind of nice guy Dean Forrester – who was still a relentless pest to Natalie – wanted to be. Except Tim was genuinely nice, and Dean was just...obnoxious.

Tim leaned forward.

"It seems cool and all, being in college early, graduating high school really young," he began, "but I didn't like it that much."

"I thought you were bulled in high school," Natalie said.

McGee shrugged.

"Teased," he corrected. "Bullying's different than teasin'. And at least those kids were my peers," he said dryly. "At MIT, people appreciate that I'm smart, but they don't want to hang out with a kid," he said simply. "Y'know? I can't drink, for a while I couldn't get in to bars or anything even," he listed. "It was like I was the kid sibling they had to drag along. And, there's a lot of resentment."

Natalie frowned, interested.

"Is it still like that?" she asked.

Tim had graduated from his undergraduate program at MIT in May. He had almost immediately begun a Master's fellowship at John's Hopkins in Baltimore.

McGee shrugged a little.

"I mean, people doing Master's degrees are more involved in their own lives, it's not as youthful," he explained. "But there's still resentment. They kind of dig at me. It makes them feel better when I get something wrong. You know, because I'm nineteen and they're…some of them are forty," he said, snorting – not because he would deride going back for education after a certain age, but because he thought it was funny that people his parents' age could act so petty.

"What do you want to do when you're done with school?" Natalie asked brightly.

" _That's_ the other thing," he groaned, smiling a little. "I pretty much had to go straight to a Master's program, 'cause whose gonna hire a teenager, even with a degree?" he snorted. "You know? Even places that don't require a degree require you to be 21 at least – like FBI, NCIS," he listed, ticking off his fingers. "But…uh, when I finish my degree, I….I wanna be an NCIS agent," he admitted, flushing brightly.

"Really?" Natalie asked. "Not a cyber person, like my mom?"

McGee shook his head, his cheeks red.

"I always wanted to be a federal agent," he said. "I want to…protect people. From bullies."

"Like Captain America," Natalie said.

Tim looked at her admiringly.

"You're the only person who hasn't laughed at me when I tell them that," he said.

Natalie looked genuinely concerned.

"Why? _That's_ why people should become federal agents," she said. " _That's_ why people should join the military, and become cops," she went on, fiercely. "People who do it because they like guns, or they think it will get them laid, or they want to be badass – those people are scary. They shouldn't be given guns just so they can live out a silly Bond fantasy."

McGee gave her that slightly lopsided, admiring look again, and she nodded for good measure.

"The only people in law enforcement and the military should be the people who wouldn't want to use a gun unless it was absolutely, abso _lutely_ necessary," she said firmly.

"But then people think they don't have the guts to kill," McGee pointed out, a little disheartened – his father told him that a lot.

Natalie looked at him, blinking seriously.

"Why would we ever want a world full of people who have the guts to kill?" she retorted. "It's not about guts. It's about protection, and justice, and last resorts – right and wrong," she said. "Tradecraft, spying, just wanting to wield a gun? That's how my little sister got caught in crosshairs."

McGee nodded. After a moment, his brow furrowed.

"Agent Gibbs' Kelly?" he asked, just to clarify.

"Half-sister," Natalie amended, nodding. "I don't like people who are comfortable with killing."

"Your dad is a sniper," McGee pointed out.

Natalie blinked at him solemnly.

"When he got back from that deployment, he switched his MOS," she said quietly. "I don't think my dad likes killing."

"I didn't mean to suggest he did," Tim said quickly, his cheeks reddening.

Natalie shrugged, and leaned back in her seat – she knew that. She loved talking to McGee like this; conversation was always good, and never really slacked off. It was like talking to Jess, except McGee was much less irreverent and hostile than Jess could get. Though – Tali had done quite a bit of good work with him; Jess the Boyfriend was apparently very well tamed.

"What's New Year's gonna be like?" McGee asked.

"Work people, plus my family people," Natalie said. "Christmas went really well," she offered. "You stayed with Pride's family, right?"

"Yeah, he has a five-year-old," McGee said. "Her name's Laurel. She's cute. Reminds me of my sister. 'Cept Sarah is eleven."

Natalie snickered.

"You can meet my best friend Tali at the party," she said. "And my grandmother, Melly. She's hysterical."

"Shepard talks about her sometimes."

"It's never stopped being weird to hear people call my mom Shepard."

"One time, before he quit, Franks called her Female Agent Gibbs," Tim snorted, "he wanted to embarrass your parents."

"Oh my god, she never told me that."

"She put him in a headlock," McGee said seriously.

" _Really_?!"

"No, I'm joking, none of that ever happened."

Natalie glared at him so stiffly that he grinned, pleased with himself.

"I think you've seen _Footloose_ too many times," she said, turning up her nose.

"I'm trying to learn how to be cool," Tim confessed.

Natalie burst out laughing.

"Being smart is cool, Tim," she said. "You don't have to be anything else."

She leaned forward and neatly organized some of her things, pulling her books towards her.

"Dad is supposed to be taking me to lunch," she said, grabbing a pen to annotate the novel. She glanced at the clock, then at the doorway. "And Mom is supposed to be bringing me my coat up, because I left it in Abby's – I keep hoping they'll walk in at the same time," she said wickedly, nodding at some decorations, "so they get trapped in the doorway and I can harass them to kiss. Because it's tradition."

McGee's eyes drifted to the mistletoe dangling there – Abby had put up mistletoe everyone, despite HR's orders to avoid doing it in case it caused problems. It didn't matter; Abby thought it was festive. Natalie had taken to constantly scheming about it.

"And because they slept together in October and they need to address that," she added.

McGee blinked at her.

"How do you know that – "

"Because, when your mother is only fifteen and a half years older than you, the relationship is more liberal."

"Ew," Tim said flatly.

Natalie thought about it a moment.

"Yeah, _ew_ ," she agreed. She paused. "But also, it would be nice if I could go from delicately balancing having a relationship with each of them and keeping everything friendly to kind of giddily rooting for them to get together."

Tim arched a brow at her, and she put her cheek on her hand.

"What? I might have a NASA Co-op, but I'm still a sixteen-year-old girl," she confided, giving him a girlish, wry wink, and then bursting into quiet, slightly embarrassed laughter.

She bit her lip, and then flicked her eyes down.

Tim leaned forward a little.

"How close do you have to be to mistletoe for it to be tradition?" he asked, a little anxiously.

Natalie lifted her eyes back to him, still chewing her lip, and after a moment, she shrugged.

"We could get into mathematics," she began, "or you could just…" she paused, and waited.

McGee didn't do anything.

Natalie squinted her eyes closed, and laughed, her nose crinkling.

"Tim," she coaxed, under her breath. "Don't leave me hanging."

"What's the most romantic way to kiss a girl?" McGee asked stoically, as if mattered.

"I think we're all aware that the answer to that is leaning against an electrical board inside the Millennium Falcon."

McGee flushed slightly. Natalie leaned forward, waiting. She blinked expectantly. She didn't – the thing was, she didn't know if she liked Tim, or wanted to date Tim – or if she was mature enough to date at all – but she liked being liked, and she liked that even if she was a super-genius freak of nature, someone might be interested in her, so she could have a normal, yet slightly impressive, teenager-hood –

Tim pressed his lips to hers, and her eyebrows went up, surprised he'd actually gone through with it. Thrilled, she grinned, and pressed forward, unsure what to do, but enthusiastic. She pursed her lips, and kissed him back, taking a moment to open her classically closed eyes and peak at his face.

Her eyes flew open slightly and she sat back in her chair, shoulders straight. Tim looked at her, blinking hazily – and then his head shot forward slightly, helped along by a firm, slight slap on the back of the skull by ex-Sniper of the USMC Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs himself.

Natalie caught her breath, blushing furiously.

Tim got up, nearly knocking his chair over. Gibbs didn't say anything to him; he just crossed his arms – Natalie swore her father had appeared out of nowhere.

"Uh, Agent Gibbs," stammered Tim, standing up, backing away. He held out his hand. "I was just – nothing. Sir, I mean – Agent Gibbs," he went on, making a complete fool of himself.

Gibbs just stared at him for a long, silent moment. Then, very clearly, he said:

"Go away."

McGee wasted absolutely no time, and when they were left alone – McGee's soda sitting ominously on the table – Natalie gave her father a dazzling, innocent grin.

"Daddy," she simpered. "You scared him."

Gibbs glared at her a little. After a split second, he smirked a little, and shrugged, putting his hands into his pockets.

"What was that all about?" he asked, in a stern, unreadable sort of way – good-natured, but probably wary, and unsure of what he should say.

Natalie stood up, gathering her things. She pushed her hair back.

"I got my first kiss," she muttered, blushing, keeping her head down.

She got everything together, and came up to him earnestly.

"Dad, you can't tell Mom."

He held up his hands, looking wary.

"I'm not keepin' secrets from Jen," he said seriously.

"No, no, I don't mean because of Tim, or Tim's age," she said hastily. "You _have_ to let me tell her," she said. "Mom will – it will _kill_ her if she finds out you knew about my first kiss before her."

Gibbs nodded slowly. He supposed he understood that – though he wondered if Jen would be happy for Natalie, or if she'd have a complete existential meltdown about it, drag Natalie to the doctor, and put her on five different kinds of birth control.

Gibbs shuddered slightly at the thought – grudgingly, he thought he'd have liked to have all the years between toddlerhood and teenagerhood to prepare himself for _this_ kind of thing. He lifted his shoulders a little, and then he froze.

"Wait, age?" he grunted. "How old is that kid? I thought he was your age."

"Oh, he's a little older," Natalie said breezily. "Where to for lunch?" she asked.

"How _much_ older?" Gibbs demanded suspiciously, something dark flaring in his chest – protective; annoyed – he felt a cosmic connection to Jasper Shepard suddenly, he thought.

Natalie, meanwhile, lifted her head high and looked at him, her eyes glittering gleefully, her lips fixed in a delighted smile. Disarmed slightly by her much too cheerful look, Gibbs' face tightened slightly, and he narrowed his eyes.

"What's the matter with you?" he growled lightly.

Natalie clasped her hands together, and compressed her lips.

"My _dad_ is bristling protectively over me with a _boy_ ," she gushed. "I never thought I'd have that."

Taken back again, Gibbs stared at her – and after a moment, he smiled a little. He wanted to keep glowering and glaring, but when she said that, and he thought about it, he understood what she meant, and even if he was annoyed that some snot nosed intern had the audacity to put his grimy geek paws on Natalie in front of God and the NCIS break room, he was, if nothing else, fiercely happy he was around to be an influence in her life, a part of her milestones.

That, and he couldn't wait to be there for Jen's reaction.

* * *

In the early afternoon, long before the festivities were supposed to begin, Gibbs spent his time quietly in the basement, seated on the edge of a rickety wooden crate while he drew a paintbrush in controlled, delicate strokes along a stenciled name on his almost-finished boat.

The basement was utterly quiet; he was mentally preparing himself for the explosion of social noise that would light up this empty, bare bones place in a few hours. He was wary of it, but he was looking forward to it. It was important to Natalie, so he had agreed to let his house be a playground for co-workers and the like.

His father was gone; that took at least some of the stress off his shoulders. His relationship with his father had certainly improved, but it was still not…easy. And being alone in the house with him for days was always slightly uncomfortable, and had an unnatural feeling to it. Jackson had to get back to the store, though – running veritably the only goods store in Stillwater meant he couldn't really justify being gone for long.

The basement was a good place for Gibbs. It was more _his_ than anything else in the house. He didn't even really use the master bedroom upstairs; he only slept there when Natalie stayed the night, because he didn't want her to think he was some kind of ingrate.

She slept in the room that would have been a guest room. She'd originally thrown her stuff in what would have been Kelly's room, but she'd noticed the pale green wallpaper – the only thing Shannon had put up when they lived there – and asked Gibbs if he preferred she stayed in the other room. He'd said he didn't mind, but she did it anyway.

He really _hadn't_ minded either way, but her consideration was just – well, often, it really kept him going, when he felt like being emotionally available was just too exhausting, and making him feel and remember too much.

Gibbs sat back from his project, narrowing his eyes – he really should get better lighting in the basement, at least for this part. He blinked a couple of times, and then glanced over into the corner, where Bugsy's dog bed was located.

She wasn't in it, and Gibbs frowned a moment – he hadn't noticed when she got up and left. He figured she probably needed to go out, but if she did, she also usually harassed him incessantly with little pokes of her wet nose. He rubbed his forehead and picked up the brush again, swirling it in the dark purple paint he'd chosen for the decoration – the was the same sort of dark purple Kelly's nursery in Paris had been, and he liked it.

The colour, despite being considered a cool colour, made him feel warm. He put the brush against the curve of a carved letter and stroked carefully, pushing his tongue against his teeth. He hoped to have this finished by tonight – it would be a good omen, he thought; a good new start. Natalie mentioned that to him.

Natalie said a lot of insightful, smart things. He listened to Natalie quite a bit more than she listened to him – not that he was involved in much of a disciplinary way. That didn't bother him much, though; he just liked being involved in her life.

Gibbs heard Bugsy run across the floor upstairs, and he paused. She didn't bark – and Bugsy barked at anyone who wasn't family, so Gibbs frowned slightly; Natalie was in Greenbelt until about four, finishing up some final paperwork and introductory training for her Co-op. New Year's Day was a federal holiday, and the program started immediately after that, so she was getting more and more excited every day.

Other than Natalie, though, the only person who Bugsy didn't bark at was –

"Jethro, are you in the basement?"

\- _Jen._

He sat back on his stool again, tilting his head. He heard her steps in the laundry room.

"Yeah," he called mildly.

He was always in his basement.

He waited patiently for her to come down the stairs, and come down the stairs she did, her hand lightly sliding along the wooden banister. He stood up heavily, pushing the crate he'd been sitting on towards the boat so it was out of tripping range, and he walked over to the counter, setting down the paint.

Jenny stepped off the bottom step, her hand lingering on the railing.

"I'm not interrupting anything?" she asked politely, her eyes wandering around the basement.

They settled on the carved name he'd been painting on the boat, and he glanced at her, studying her expression as he pushed the brush and paint tin away from the edge of the counter so there was no risk of spilling it.

He grabbed a rag and wiped off his hands, turning around. He lifted his shoulders.

"Nothin'," he said simply.

Her eyes still lingered on the boat, and she smiled softly. She turned her eyes on him.

"Kelly?" she asked, reading the word.

He'd carved it in over the last week; he'd only started painting it with the purple this morning. It was the last part, the finishing touch on the project he'd promised her before she died, he'd started after he lost her, and would complete – well, today, unless Jen needed something important.

He nodded. He hesitated, and then gestured stiffly.

"It was Nat's idea," he grunted guardedly. "Said you name a boat after someone, they live forever."

Jenny looked back at the boat.

"Yes," she murmured, tilting her head thoughtfully. "It fits." She paused a moment, and looked back at him. "What will you do when you're done with it?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"Teach Natalie how to sail," he said, sure Natalie would enjoy an outing like that, in the spring or summer. He tucked his rag into the back pocket of his jeans and nodded to himself, as if confirming it. "Start somethin' new."

"Any ideas?" Jenny prompted.

Gibbs folded his arms.

"Natalie wants a roll top desk," he said. He arched a brow. "You need anything?" he asked, surprising her a little.

She just laughed, shaking her head.

"I hope Natalie hasn't been bothering you," she sighed.

He shook his head.

"She doesn't bother me," he said firmly.

Jenny smiled – yes; Natalie was generally past the _bothering_ age of her youth. She was very much her own person, not obnoxious, not troublesome; smart, and grounded, and very self-aware. She made things easy on them – she had, since they returned from their climactic trip to Stillwater last November.

"You let Bugsy out?" Gibbs asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah," Jenny answered. "She nearly tackled me, trying to get out the door."

"Kind of forgot about 'er," Gibbs admitted, snorting. He gestured at the boat again. "Distracted. Wanted to finish it for the New Year."

"So," Jenny said softly, wincing, "I _am_ interrupting."

He shrugged a little.

"Natalie okay?" he asked.

Jenny nodded.

"I'm not here about her," Jenny said. "I mean – well, I am," she corrected, "but she's fine, and more about her…abstractly."

Gibbs stared at her. Jenny flushed, and came forward more comfortably, her purse slipping down her shoulder. She pushed it back up, and Gibbs, suddenly remembering himself, gestured at the workbench, indicating she could take a seat.

"Bourbon?" he grunted.

She held up a hand as she perched on the workbench.

"I drove," she said, hesitating. "I don't want to overstay – "

"Have a drink, Jen," he said, rolling his eyes slightly.

She closed her lips, nodded, fluttered her lashes gratefully, and then smirked slightly.

"Remember the last time I had a drink here?" she asked dryly.

"Maybe that's why I'm offerin' again," he quipped, giving her a charming smirk – it sounded surprisingly flirtatious, and she flushed a little, looking down.

He got together the whiskey and two empty, slightly dusty mugs; she slid her purse off and unzipped it, resting it on the counter. Her hand sat just inside the opening, fingertips grasping something nervously. Her eyes followed his movements, then the swirling liquor, and then fell on his face as he slid her a mug.

"What's buggin' ya, Jen?" he asked bluntly.

It wasn't often she came over here – just a few times, leading up to an extremely eventful time, in October, and not since then – definitely not since then. They were alone together at NCIS occasionally, and handled it fine – like professionals – and alone, in a way, when they sat together at Natalie's events – once or twice, she'd helped him shop for things for Natalie's birthday or some holiday he wanted to get her a gift for.

She seemed anxious, though; he hoped nothing had happened that was going to damage the good thing that was going – sheepishly, he hoped she hadn't found out that he was keeping Natalie's first kiss secret.

He didn't think he could handle a gossip with Jen about their daughter's – as a matter of fact, he didn't want to think about his daughter and boys.

At all.

He shook his head slightly, blinking grudgingly. Jen took a drink of whiskey stoically, and then pulled her hand from her purse, drawing a slightly thick white envelope with her, the kind that medical bills or legal documents came in.

"I have – a sort of, Christmas gift for you," she began hesitantly. "It's not – a gift, I guess, it's more of a…right, but I wanted to do it around the holiday, and it's been a year, a good year," she broke off and sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I sound like an idiot," she growled to herself.

He stared at her a moment, and then he snorted.

"You sound sixteen," he said, almost nostalgically.

She looked up, and suddenly grinned softly, shrugging a little. She nodded, and that comment seemed to give her a little push.

She held out the envelope.

"I was going to give it to you at Christmas, but we didn't give each other gifts, and I didn't want to put you on the spot in front of people. I know how you don't like spectacles and spotlights," she said, holding her breath just a little.

He set aside his mug and looked at her offering mildly a moment, before he took it, looking at the flap curiously. He opened it, slid out a bulging fold of documents, and flicked it open. He glanced up at her, wary, and then narrowed his eyes, beginning to read.

The first few words that jumped out at him focused him deeply – things like _custody, child, paternity_ – and from then on, he got a bit tangled in legal mumbo-jumbo, but even as he started to skim through, until he got to the last page – a signature page – he got the point, and reading Natalie's name in the middle of a paragraph – Natalie's full, legal name, he paused, and looked up.

"Like I said," Jenny said weakly. "I don't want to call it a gift, really, it's more of a right," she repeated.

Gibbs lowered his eyes slowly.

Despite the legal mumbo-jumbo, the gist was straightforward. They were legal papers, notarized by courts, drawn up by Jenny herself, that awarded him a common law-like custodial responsibility, and full custody in the event of Jenny's – quote – _untimely demise_.

"It's really what you should have had, back then," Jenny said in a small voice. "When Daddy pulled that fast one in court."

Gibbs remembered that day, in the Pennsylvania county courts, Jasper Shepard demanding his daughter receive full, unchallenged custody of the baby. Gibbs not really thinking too much of it, back then, because they were going to be together forever.

Jenny lifted her hand and pushed her hair back anxiously, worried by his silence.

"The custody agreement there is – there aren't legal times, or specific holiday allotments," she explained. "It's joint custody, more akin to the way courts would recognize parental rights of married couples." She chewed on her lip, pausing again – and again the silence bothered her. "I know it doesn't matter much; she's almost grown," she said faintly.

He looked up, quiet for a moment, looking at her intently. He lifted the papers slightly.

"It matters," he said, finally speaking.

He was – this genuinely caught him off guard; he didn't even know Jenny had been considering it. It _was_ more of a formality; Natalie was at an age now where, considering their proximity to each other and the decent way things had been going, it shouldn't come up – but it meant something to him not because he felt insecure, and he needed the rights, but because Jenny had done it of her own free will; more than anything that had happened in the past year, this was Jenny utterly and completely putting him in an immoveable and specifically defined space in Natalie's life, and in her own.

Jenny smiled. She lifted her shoulders.

"It just, ah, needs your signature, then," she told him, nodding her head. "And – " she swallowed; she felt breathless; she'd been more nervous than she thought. "I thought you could tell Natalie."

Gibbs stared at the papers for another moment, and then he cleared his throat.

"You got a pen in that bag?" he asked, nodding at her purse.

She slipped one out, handing it over. She watched him – it happened so fast, with so little pain, and so little stress; the line was blank, and then it had his signature on it, and she was standing in the basement with Natalie's father, his full parental rights in drying ink, righting a wrong that had plagued them both for years.

It signified, in such a poignant way, how much the last year had meant – how much had happened in it.

Gibbs folded the paper, slid it into the envelope, and handed it out to her. She put her palm up.

"Keep it," she said softly. "It's yours."

He considered her a moment, then turned, and walked over to a drawer in his work area. He pulled it open, pushed aside some rolled up sketches he'd made before he started the boat, and pulled out an old wooden box full of keepsakes. He opened it, and right on top of Shannon's first sonogram, Kelly's hospital bracelet, and the block Natalie had once written on in Stillwater, he placed the papers.

He closed the box away without sharing it with Jen, and turned back to her. She sat on the edge of the workbench, her hands clasped in her lap. He noticed she wasn't really drinking, and he smirked a little, walking back slowly, and picking up his mug.

"You always could trust me with her," he said – it wasn't really gloating, and he didn't sound arrogant; he was proud of himself, and he was relieved.

It felt like an accomplishment; it validated his promise to Jenny and Natalie, it validated the time he'd put in, and the effort – it made him feel like he was doing good, he was healing, he was being strong. If Jenny had done this, then he wasn't coming off as badly as he thought he was.

And it was hard, sometimes – it was so hard.

Jenny leaned forward slightly.

"I want you to know that – this past year, it's had its ups and downs, and it's been – hard to navigate, sometimes," she began, in a quickly more confident tone, "but you never backed down, and Natalie…Natalie is so happy."

Gibbs' lips turned up a little. He folded his arms.

Jenny nodded for emphasis.

"She told me she's painting her room in this house?"

Gibbs nodded stiffly. He'd told her she could paint it, decorate, really make it hers – make it more of a home. They were starting in the New Year; another new project, since she'd have more free time. The Co-op meant no piles and piles of homework, just practical experience.

"You know what colour she means when she says it's gonna look like Ravenclaw?" he asked.

"Navy blue and bronze," Jenny said automatically. "It's a Harry Potter thing."

"She told me," Gibbs said seriously. "She also told me I'm a Gryffindor."

"Well," Jenny said dryly, "she told me I'm a Slytherin, so you got the good one."

Gibbs smirked a little smugly.

"Be wary of the colour search, though," Jenny advised. "When we were painting her room in San Diego, she made me spend four hours at the paint store figuring out which blue exactly matched Luke Skywalker's lightsaber."

Gibbs arched his eyebrows slightly, the smirk still on his face.

"No pink, huh?" he asked.

"Pink lipstick only," Jenny sighed. She frowned a moment. "Which she's wearing a lot more often lately, as it were."

Gibbs nodded, his expression darkening. He damn near scowled, as he thought of that twitchy little intern he'd caught her with – but he kept his word, true to his promise; it wasn't something that was hurting her, so he didn't need to tattle, but he needed to keep a sharper eye, and he wondered if Jenny _knew_.

"Jackson get back to Stillwater okay?" Jenny asked.

"Yeah, called me last night," Gibbs said gruffly.

"Your in-laws doing alright?"

Gibbs shrugged a little. He reached for his whiskey.

"Fine," he said, a little tense. "Holidays…are hard for 'em," he admitted – admitting it for himself, too.

Jenny nodded. She was quiet a moment, and then she said:

"I hope Christmas wasn't too bad for you," she offered warily. "I know it was a lot. My mother can be…a _handful_ ," she admitted, wincing slightly.

He shook his head slightly.

"Better'n last year," he admitted heavily. "Better'n the first," he added, indicating how he was moving on – the first holiday without his family was a dark abyss, a part of his life he'd never, ever want to revisit; last year, he'd taken all of Shannon and Kelly's things to Stillwater, to Mack and Joanne, while they sorted them, and decided what they wanted, and what he wanted, to keep – harrowing, but cathartic, and then, a good way to move forward.

Last year, it was confronting their things, their left-behind existence lingering; this year, it was honoring them, getting through it a little more every day.

"You care if I get Natalie that cat she wants?" he asked suddenly, deflecting the subject. "Didn't want to step on your toes, but if it stays here," he let the sentence hang.

Jenny sighed. She thought about it for a moment, and then she rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"What about Bugsy?" she stalled.

"Bugsy will put up with it," Gibbs said. He narrowed is eyes slightly playfully. "I'm the Alpha; I decide if she likes the cat."

Jenny smirked at him, and then lifted her shoulders.

"Fine, get her the cat," she allowed. "I'll put that down on my ever-growing list of reasons you're the cool one and I'm the stick in the mud," she lamented dramatically.

"She's never gonna like me better, Jen," he said simply.

She looked at him through her lashes, and was quiet a moment. She held up her hand, one finger extended.

"One condition on the cat," she said.

He inclined his head.

"Get her a girl cat, because I have it on good authority she wants to name a boy cat Lando Catrissian and I'm sorry, I just can't have something that ridiculous involved in my life."

Gibbs grinned, holding up his hands.

"Girl cat it is," he agreed.

He folded his arms, and Jenny put her hand around her mug again, pulling it towards her. She looked into it a moment, and then lifted her chin, meeting his eyes through her lashes again, as if she had something further to say. Since she seemed to be having some difficulty with it, he decided to prompt her, but looking her dead in the eye and, using his knowing voice, asking:

"You got something to say to me, Jen?"

His eyes glinted with a bit of amusement, and she stared at him a little startled for a moment, and then she swallowed, and put her shoulders back a little.

"Ah, yes – actually," she confessed, only a little shakily.

She swallowed again, and licked her lips, steeling herself, bracing herself – she wanted to clear the air before he new year started, so she could figure out what she was heading into – decide what they were heading into, if anything – this past year had been a year of progress; what would the next one be?

"We never – talked," she said, suddenly barely audible, "about what happened in October."

Unbidden, a small smirk struck Gibbs lips, but he hastily composed himself, because this was serious – and he understood why it was an issue that they had glossed over it.

"I only bring it up because," Jenny continued, taking a deep breath, "Natalie sensed a change between us, and I thought," she broke off, shrugging a little.

"She did?"

A faint look flickered in Jenny's eyes.

"She asked me if we had sex."

Gibbs snorted. Then he caught the slightly sheepish look on Jenny's face, and he narrowed his eyes.

"What did you tell her?" he asked sharply.

"I told her we had sex."

Gibbs looked like he'd been clubbed in the head. He stared at her in silence, and then he shook it off, and glared at her.

"What the hell's the matter with you?"

"She asked! She – my mother, in all her glory, told her that people act weird when it's a sex – "

" _But you told her?"_

"Ohhhh," hissed Jenny, waving her hand. "What's done is done."

Scandalized, Gibbs fell silent; Jenny lifted her mug and took a sip of whiskey, closing her eyes a moment as she lowered the mug. She stared into it a moment, and then looked up, her lips shaking slightly. She compressed them.

"It happened, I know," Jenny said hesitantly.

"Doesn't have to mean anything you don't want it too, Jen," Gibbs said simply, shrugging.

"I don't regret it," she said hoarsely, looking up sharply.

It _had_ happened the weekend Natalie went away to Maryland; she'd come over to his place after work, talked to him a bit about Natalie, had a drink or two – it was so typical, so unoriginal; one thing led to another, and they were falling into bed together, comfortable with each other, assuaging desires that hadn't been addressed in – well, for her, more than a year, for him, since his wife had died.

Gibbs wasn't sure he was able to say he didn't regret it. He didn't, but he also couldn't – fathom moving forward, or making any promises, or commitments. He felt…a lot of things, about Jenny, a lot of heavy things, but there was a long road from forgiveness and reconciliation to romance and rekindling.

And it bothered him, the unsettling way it might look like Shannon had just been an interim while he waited for Jenny. He didn't want people to think that – he didn't want to have to second-guess himself; he loved Shannon – he had.

Jenny pointed to herself lightly.

"I started acting – withdrawn," she said hoarsely, "because I was afraid – I put you in an uncomfortable position," she told him. It seemed painful for her. "I think I wanted – that – more than you did," she paused, "and then I got," she sighed, lifting her eyes high, keeping them on the ceiling, "scared."

He nodded, his jaw tight; he was carefully silent, wary. He knew – had known, since last year – that her feelings towards him hadn't really changed; she hadn't had the same kind of life he'd had when they'd separated, when it came to moving in, letting go.

He swallowed hard.

"Jen," he ventured quietly, lifting his shoulders.

He couldn't find anything to say, though. He stepped forward, comically at a loss for words. He reached out to place his hand on the counter near hers, and, inexplicably, what came out of his mouth was –

"It's gotten better, since we were sixteen."

Taken aback, she blinked at him. Then she shot her leg out, and kicked him in the knee, covering her mouth with one hand, and muffling a laugh. After a moment, she withdrew the hand, and pushed her hair back, nodding.

"Better," she said huskily, her lashes trembling slightly as she remembered – sleeping with him, after all those years, those feelings at the surface, when they both knew what they were doing – "It did _not_ feel like the first time," she quipped, referencing the song.

Gibbs smirked at her. Impulsively, he put his hand on her neck, and moved closer. Her lips parted as she looked up at him, and he lowered his, pressing them against hers. Her hands sprung up and pressed lightly against his chest. He kissed her, and she closed her eyes, lost in it a moment, before she jerked back, startled, confused, her eyes on him.

He cleared his throat, swallowing, his forehead nudging hers. He pulled back slightly.

"I don't know if this is a good idea," she choked.

"It's not," Gibbs said bluntly, his eyes flicking to her lips, and back up to her eyes.

"I don't know if I can do this – if we're ready for this," Jenny whispered, her breath hitching.

He shrugged. He hesitated.

He didn't know either. He felt – overwhelmed, and wary, but kissing her felt good; it had felt good in October, and it felt good now, and if they just – took slow steps, maybe they could figure it out. He swallowed, and he shrugged again. He took a deep breath, and in the way he looked at her, she felt disarmed, and put her hand over his, squeezing a little. She hadn't come over for this – but it was better than living in that limbo that had alerted Natalie to a frisson in their relationship.

She took a deep breath, and smiled at him a little. He studied her intently, his thumb resting against her pulse.

"Why don't you stay for a while, Jen?" he offered neutrally.

She licked her lips, and cleared her throat.

She nodded.

Natalie had a car; she'd get herself to the party – and if she had questions about why Jenny was already there, they could find a way to answer it later, if they could talk through it a little and find an answer for themselves.

* * *

Bugsy was absolutely beside herself with excitement; a house full of people was something that had virtually never happened to her, and she was lucky everyone over liked dogs. She'd spent most of her time since about six, when people had arrived, dashing around in maniacal circles trying to get attention from everyone, and it had all gone well until she had spilled Melly's drink all over the place.

Melly had handled it extremely gracefully, but she'd had to change out of her alcohol-soaked blouse into the only thing available – one of Gibbs' old t-shirts.

And Natalie was _pretty_ sure it was irritating her mother.

"Mom," Natalie hissed loudly, following her into the kitchen to pester her. "If you want to wear one of Dad's t-shirts, just go put one on," she teased/

Jenny swatted her hand at Natalie.

"Get away, Gnat," she growled loftily, implying the insect spelling rather than the human spelling – she liked to do that when Natalie was being annoying.

"I'm saying you don't have to keep shooting daggers at Melly," Natalie said conversationally. "She's pretty happy with Max."

"I was happy when I had no children," Jenny sighed dramatically.

Natalie gave a shrill giggle, and Jenny turned around, a beer in her hand. She rolled her eyes at the errant teenager.

"At least he knows what you're going to look like in thirty years," Natalie said pointedly.

Jenny pointed in the direction of her mother, eyebrows going up.

"I will never have that much plastic and/or botox in my face," she hissed pointedly.

Natalie grinned at her, and shrugged.

"I'll stop bugging you if you tell me why you were over here already when I got here – since I got here two hours early."

Jenny waved her hand, shaking her head.

"Natalie, it's not what you think," she said again, sighing, frustrated – Natalie hadn't even walked in on anything untoward or slightly suspicious. Jenny had been up in the kitchen, stocking some drinks; Gibbs had been in the basement, finishing the boat. "I was bored, bumming around the house – "

"So you came to _Dad's?"_

Jenny grit her teeth.

"I had some things to discuss with him," she said neutrally.

She folded her arms, balancing her cold beer on her elbow.

"Wouldn't you rather spend the rest of this evening being with your friends than harassing me in the kitchen?"

'Not really," Natalie said seriously, blinking pointedly.

Jenny rolled her eyes at her.

"Natalie," she said, lowering her voice, "your father will tell you why I was over here when he's ready," she assured her.

Natalie's brows went up a little, and Jenny reached up and patted her cheek.

"Go protect Tim from Bugsy; he's the latest target," she advised smoothly, slipping past her daughter – Bugsy was indeed harassing the hell out of Tim for some of his party food, and Tim was weakly trying to fight the dog off.

To Jenny's surprise, Gibbs had done nothing to quell Bugsy's attitude, and he was usually on top of ordering the dog to back off of people. She went back into the living room and sought out a place to sit – there was an open one next to Gibbs, one that Natalie had evidently vacated, and Jenny took it.

Gibbs turned his head and gave her a small smile, as she leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, lifting her beer towards him in a dry toast.

"I'm protecting you," she said bluntly. "Natalie cornered me in the kitchen. She thinks we've been trysting all afternoon."

" _Trysting_?"

"I think it's a word. It means –

"I know what it means," he interrupted, arching a brow.

Jenny shrugged, turning her head; they both looked at Natalie, who had distracted Bugsy from Tim, and was standing next to him, laughing wildly at something Jess had just said, while Tali gave them all a slightly annoyed, good-natured glare.

Jenny inclined her head.

"Tali was over last night," she said, lowering her voice. She turned her head. "I heard them talking," she said, meeting Gibbs' eyes. "I think Natalie's interested in McGee," she confided.

She didn't usually confide in Gibbs about Natalie – not things like this; and usually, Gibbs wasn't involved in disciplinary decisions or anything like that, he had just been ingratiating himself for the past year. But things were going to shift, and change, now that he had his place, and they'd come so far and well – he felt like the only person who might understand how much it terrified her to have a teenage boy around her teenage daughter.

Gibbs didn't say anything. He glared over at the two of them, and Jenny's brow furrowed; he looked a little sheepish, in light of his protective annoyance, and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Jethro?" she asked.

He turned towards her and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. He didn't want to betray Natalie's confidence, but he suddenly was wary she'd think he was facilitating an illicit relationship, and he id remember that Tim was at least two years older than Nat –

"I caught them kissing in the break room at NCIS," he confessed.

Jenny's mouth popped open – if she hadn't been sitting, she might have fallen over in abject shock.

" _What_?" she yelped loudly – and then, when both Abby and Melly halted their conversations on tattoos and stared at her, she lowered her voice and sat forward, angling her body more towards Jethro's. "What?" she repeated, quieter.

Panic struck her.

"He's nineteen, Jethro," she whined under her breath. "She just turned sixteen!"

Gibbs stared at her for a minute, and then sat forward.

"I'm gonna kill him," he decided, starting to rise.

Jenny gasped quietly, and grabbed his arm, forcing him back down.

"No," she ordered, switching gears. "No – oh, nonsense, McGee is a nice – he's – and Natalie's mature – "

"I'm going to _arrest_ him."

Jenny laughed hoarsely.

"You only caught them kissing," she reminded him. Her face suddenly blanched. "Just kissing, right?"

He pointed to himself in disbelief.

"You think he'd be alive if it was anything else?" he asked, affronted. "You think I'd be sittin' here if it was anything else?" he added, for good measure – he'd have killed Tim, probably, and then had a heart attack from the shock and stress.

Jenny swallowed, still clutching his arm. She relaxed after a moment, her lips pursing.

"She didn't tell me about this," she murmured.

"Jen," Gibbs began, hesitant. "She – asked me not to tell you," he told her, keeping his voice low. "Said you'd be…upset, that I knew first."

Jenny pushed her hair back, looking over at her daughter; Natalie was chattering away to Ducky now, no doubt discussing of one of his old war stories. Jess appeared to be berating Tim, which Jenny was slightly grateful for, and Tali had sat down on the floor to pester Bugsy at her own game.

Gibbs watched Jenny watch the crowd, and arched his brows when she turned back to him.

"I'm not upset," Jenny said, a strange expression on her face. She bit her lip, thinking about it – six months ago, she would have been; she would have felt threatened that Gibbs knew something she didn't – she would have felt hostile, like the time she'd so immaturely snapped at Natalie when she found out Natalie told Gibbs she was interviewing for NASA before she told Jenny.

But, sitting here, in the midst of all these people her daughter loved, and in the aftermath of the at least somewhat defining, progressive conversation she and Jethro had had this afternoon, she found that she wasn't upset.

It didn't even make her feel sad, and she didn't feel the need to demand answers from Gibbs on when, how, and why he'd found out – which, she grudgingly admitted to herself, she had done before, and it probably hadn't made her look like the nicest, most stable person on the planet.

Gibbs looked at her skeptically, and she lifted her shoulders simple.

"I'm not upset," she assured him softly; honestly. "I'm glad she trusts you."

Gibbs considered her a minute, and then cleared his throat.

"Well, she didn't tell me," he noted. "I caught them." He paused a moment, and then lifted is drink in the most nonchalant way possible. "Then I hit him in the back of the head so he would stop touching her."

Jenny burst out laughing, fondly reminded of her own father. It suddenly struck here that there was a bonus she'd never even considered about having Gibbs around, back in Nat's life – overprotective father syndrome. Natalie would hate it, as Jenny would have hated it had Jasper been paying closer attention, but –

"Maybe someone should have hit you in the back of the head back in the eighties," she teased.

"Think someone did," he said, remembering his father's reaction to their parenthood announcement. "It was too late."

She followed his gaze, and found him looking at Natalie. She reached over and put her hand on his thigh, squeezing slightly.

"If they kiss for longer than thirty seconds at midnight, break it up," she ordered seriously.

" _Thirty_ – how about _five_ – "

Jenny laughed, drowning out his protest. She turned her head and looked at him with wide eyes, amused, and admiring.

"She's a good girl, Jethro," she promised. "She'll be okay. She won't make our mistakes."

Gibbs looked at her cautiously for a moment, his mouth in a tight line. He glanced over her shoulder at Natalie, and he shrugged a little, his expression suddenly.

"Was it a mistake?" he asked suddenly, abruptly.

Taken aback, Jenny looked over at Natalie. She hesitated; she hadn't meant it like that, she hadn't meant to imply that all these years Natalie exhausted her, or regretted her. It was a difficult thing to navigate, wishing so badly that things had been different, more responsible, but having no resentment at all towards her daughter.

She brushed her fingers over her lips, and tilted her head, leaning back. She moved her head, looking at Gibbs.

"It wasn't a mistake to keep her," she said simply. She bit her lower lip, and then turned slightly more, having a private conversation in the midst of a party. "She asked me once," she admitted. "If I'd wanted an abortion."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows warily.

"What did you tell her?" he asked, morbidly curious.

"Well, she was thirteen," Jenny said heavily. "I wasn't sure how much she could handle. I told her that…I was very scared, and when you're scared, your first thought is – 'what's the easiest way to fix this, and make-it go away'. And I told her it crossed my mind, but when the time came to decide, I didn't want to."

Gibbs nodded – he remembered sitting at home, unsure if Jenny had gone to the city for a check up with a better doctor, or to get rid of the baby. He'd brought her homework over that day, because she'd missed school; and when he'd got home and told his mother she hadn't done it, Ann had cried, she was so relieved. Gibbs – never told Jenny that.

"If she ever asks again, I'll be sure to tell her you never wanted that," Jenny piped up dryly. "Not even for a second."

Gibbs was still for a moment, and he shrugged.

"Don't make me look that saintly, Jen," he said gruffly, his voice heavy. "Just 'cause I didn't want you to have one doesn't mean I was thrilled."

Jenny folded her arms, balancing her beer on her elbow again.

"Maybe not thrilled," Jenny said quietly, her words soft. "But you never let it show, how devastating it was. Not like I did."

Gibbs shrugged. He didn't know if that was such a good thing. He wouldn't have wanted to make Natalie or Jenny feel unwanted or miserable, but it hadn't been easy, and his way of handling it had been to literally remove himself from the situation – granted, he did think it was the best thing to do, support wise, and to get her out of Stillwater like she so wanted, but he'd completely ignored her fear of him leaving.

"You ever want more kids, Jen?" he asked, catching her off guard.

She pressed her lips to the neck of her bottle, and then sighed quietly, moving her lips silently.

She shrugged slowly.

"I don't think so," she said, concentrating hard on the question. "I don't know – that I would have wanted kids if I hadn't had Natalie," she said in a small voice. "Back in Stillwater," she reflected, "when I dreamed about my future, our future – I never pictured kids."

Gibbs nodded. She wondered if he wanted more, even now – he'd had another with Shannon, and Gibbs was good with kids. She bit down on her lip, wondering if that would come up – but he dropped the subject; he'd only been curious, since she'd seemed to have been content on her own, with just Natalie, for all those years, when Gibb thought that sort of emotional loneliness might have killed him.

"She's going to start asking what's going on," Jenny said dully, gesturing between them.

Gibbs nodded carefully; he expected that. Despite some open conversation to do, they hadn't made any decisions – not really; just maybe some more time alone together, outside of work, carefully feeling out the people they were today, if they were compatible.

It was a sticky thing to navigate; it would be easy to sleep together regularly because they knew each other, and because it was less troublesome than finding other people and bringing them into the volatile mix with Natalie, but it could end badly, too, and then Natalie would be in the middle –

The bottom line was, Natalie would be out of the house in roughly two years, and they weren't in any rush; unlike other parents who would send their kids off to college in early years of the new millennium, they wouldn't be winding down in their lives: they'd have more than half ahead of them.

Gibbs lifted his arm and put it around her, silent.

"And why is Rivka not speaking to Ziva again?" he heard Tim asking, trying to keep up with a story.

"Because Ziva refused her offer of acceptance to Harvard and decided to go back to Israel and serve in the army instead – " Tali said, animated.

"Natalie, darling, it's easy enough; I'll show you how to do the winged liner – you can't use blue eye shadow, though, it's not actually cute – " Melly advised Natalie on make-up, and Jenny kept looking around at the crowd – friends, technically considered family, because Abby said family was more than DNA, and everyone at NCIS was her family.

Jenny smiled at the atmosphere; she felt comfortable, and at ease – the stress, and chaotic feeling of tenseness and worry and apprehension, that had plagued her in the month leading up to the end of the year holidays was gone, and she just felt unburdened and relieved; this had been good to them.

Instead of bringing to the surface anything problematic or unresolved that was simmering underneath, it had just showcased how far things had come, and how well they could turn out, when everyone cooperated, communicated – respected each other.

"Jen," Gibbs said, turning to her. "You gave me your legal thing," he remarked, hesitating. "There's somethin' you need to know about, then," he offered.

He paused, his jaw tight; he'd kept this close to the vest, because he wanted his relationship with Natalie, and his repairing parental relationship with Jenny, to evolve on its own, not persuaded by anything else.

As she looked at him her brow furrowed, her lips pursed, he cleared his throat gruffly.

"I never quit payin' child support," he said simply. "I been puttin' it into an account, for her. Since eighty-seven." He shrugged. "I don't want her to know, until she's eighteen," he warned, "but it's all – it's all hers. It's invested. Hasn't done bad," he paused again. "She can go to college wherever she wants."

Jenny stared at him, completely blindsided – she didn't know what she'd expected him to say, but it wasn't that; to think, he'd kept up his obligation all these years, setting things aside for Natalie, just in case, having a nest egg for her –

"Don't tell her yet, Jen," Gibbs repeated, his eyes sharp. "Don't want it to…I want her to," he broke off, obviously struggling with the words. "Her bein' in my life, can't be about the money," he said finally – stiffly.

Jenny shook her head – and then nodded; she wouldn't tell, and she understood, but she was so – overwhelmed, because in the back of her mind, she'd worried about Natalie's schooling; the schools she wanted were expensive, and Jenny's salary was not below the poverty line – and it was hard to get a merit scholarship when she was in with the best of the best of the _best_ anyway.

"I won't tell her," Jenny promised.

She stared at him a moment longer – what broke her reverie was the sudden blaring of the television; the New York broadcast of New Year's Eve, beginning the countdown to the millennium. Natalie went dashing across the room, perching on the edge of the couch, sitting next to her father. He reached up and rubbed her shoulder, smiling at her.

"Melly's going to sing _Auld Lang Synge_ after the ball drops," Natalie said brightly. She winked at Gibbs. "She's drunk," she confided in him wickedly.

"Why am I not surprised?" Jenny muttered dryly.

Natalie held up her hands, and called the attention of the room.

"Does everyone have someone to kiss at midnight?" she asked loudly.

Abby put her arm around Ducky coyly, laughing a little; Jess pulled Tali onto his lap, Max pointed at a glittery-eyed Melly – Natalie turned to her mother demurely.

"I'm going to kiss Tim," she advised seriously. She held up her hands. "Don't freak out."

Jenny feigned surprise, and then shot a glare at Tim, just for fun. He turned red, and muttered something she couldn't hear, and gently, Jenny turned to her daughter, arching an eyebrow.

"We'll discuss this later," she remarked mildly.

"He's a good man, Mom," Natalie whispered earnestly.

"'Man' is the operative problem word," Jenny retorted. "Later," she reiterated – there would be serious discussion concerning that, if Natalie actually wanted to start seeing a boy. Any boy, really – though Tim's age was going to be addressed, very pointedly.

"Ten," Abby began, "nine, eight,"

Natalie got up, and sauntered over to Tim; Jenny didn't miss the fact that she'd pointedly indicated everyone was paired up, and she shared a dry look with Gibbs; Natalie wouldn't be watching at them, and kissing him at the stroke of midnight seemed to solidify a step neither of them had really decided they were ready to take.

Confetti fell, bells rang – clocks struck midnight, and in the ensuing hullaballoo, Jenny considered what the past year had been – lots of tears, laughter, agonizing integrations of lives, all kinds of new horizons that had to be tackled –

\- but the thing about this new year, the millennium arriving, the nineteen hundreds gone, was that it wasn't all new navigations and uncharted waters anymore; they were on a path to normalcy, of Natalie having her father, and her mother, and it not being a brave new world everyday, a hefty ordeal – but just a fact of life.

Jenny caught Gibbs' eye, with the New Year still ringing in her ear, and she leaned over and pecked the corner of his mouth demurely – a split second later, Busy leapt up into their laps, licking them both aggressively on the mouth. Gibbs glared at her, baring his teeth, and Jenny laughed, catching the sweet German Shepard in her arms, and stroking her ears.

She heard Natalie laughing, and she smiled at Gibbs' over the dog's soft, velvety ears, her eyes boring into his intently – their daughter was sixteen, she was a NASA intern, she had never come close to a pregnancy scare – Gibbs had finished his boat, he'd begun to heal, he'd come to terms with grief; he'd been a solid figure in his daughter's life for over a year, and sitting next to him, listening to the chaos, Natalie's laughter loudest among all of it, Jenny marked January first of the new millennium, so many years after she'd been a terrified little girl, with a newborn baby, in a hospital room in Stillwater, as the day she felt completely, wholly, and absolutely at peace with the path her life had taken - and with the fact that it was almost time for herself and Jethro to hand the reigns of Natalie's life to Natalie herself.

* * *

"Well its a tried and true equation  
maintains a small town population  
that turns us all into family."  
Miranda Lambert; Babies Makin' Babies

* * *

 _the end ! happy new year (i did say the final posting date was significant. cheesy, but significant)._  
 _note: there will be a one-shot "epilogue" sometime soon, set in 2003 (the premiere date of canon NCIS)_

 _-alexandra_


End file.
